Copyright
by
Linda Marie Mayhew
2005 The Dissertation Committee for Linda Marie Mayhew certifies that this is the approved version of the following dissertation:
Eccentric Cities:
Nikolai Gogol’s Saint Petersburg and Jan Neruda’s Prague
Committee:
______Hana Pichova, Supervisor
______John Kolsti
______Keith Livers
______Sidney Monas
______Elizabeth Richmond-Garza Eccentric Cities:
Nikolai Gogol’s Saint Petersburg and Jan Neruda’s Prague
by
Linda Marie Mayhew, B.A.; M.A.
Dissertation
Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of
the University of Texas at Austin
in Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirements
for the Degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
The University of Texas at Austin
December 2005 Acknowledgments
I would like to express my deep gratitude to all my committee members for guiding me through the dissertation process. Particular thanks go to my supervisor, Hana
Pichova, for inspiring me to do my best work and encouraging me through every step.
Sidney Monas always made himself available to discuss Gogol and Petersburg. John
Kolsti suggested the themes for my third and fourth chapters. Reminders to address larger as well as smaller questions came from Keith Livers. Elizabeth Richmond-Garza challenged me to refine my theoretical approach over the course of many conversations.
The Graduate School at The University of Texas at Austin provided me with a
Continuing Tuition Grant during the 2004-2005, enabling me to focus the majority of my time on researching and writing my dissertation. Last but not least, special thanks to my husband, who believed in me, debated with me, provided extensive technological assistance, and cleaned more than his share of the house on many weekends to ensure the timely completion of this project.
iv Eccentric Cities:
Nikolai Gogol’s Saint Petersburg and Jan Neruda’s Prague
Publication No. ______
Linda Marie Mayhew, Ph.D. The University of Texas at Austin, 2005
Supervisor: Hana Pichova
In Universe of the Mind, Yuri Lotman proposes that some cities are “eccentric”.
These eccentric cities do not clearly correspond to the nation in which they are located because of discrepancies in architecture, geography, or politics, thus pushing them to the edge or beyond a country’s identity. The cities of Saint Petersburg and Prague represent two examples of cities existing beyond the boundaries of their respective cultures in the nineteenth century. Petersburg, the capital of the Russian Empire and “Window to the
West”, represented a focus on foreign rather than native culture. Similar tensions between internal and external cultures plagued Prague, the capital of an imagined Czech nation, governed by the Austrian Empire and dominated by German language and art
v forms. This dissertation explores the ways in which these two eccentrically located urban spaces express the tensions between Western and Eastern Europe that arise from their geographical positioning and historical development as depicted in Nikolai Gogol’s
Petersburg Tales (1833-1842) and Jan Neruda’s Prague Tales (1867-1878). These short story collections reflect the complex cultural geography of Petersburg and Prague and the complications of daily living caused by each city’s particular eccentricity.
In Chapters One and Two, I explore the dualities of cultural and physical space in
Petersburg and Prague as portrayed in Gogol’s Petersburg Tales and Neruda’s Prague
Tales. Based on a binary system of interior and exterior, I examine the physical and semiotic space within the city, contrasting characters’ homes with streets and workplaces.
In order to connect Gogol’s and Neruda’s portrayals of these cities to the actual physical space in the city, I explore architectural trends relevant to their writing.
In Chapters Three and Four, I expand the binary structure of interior and exterior space into a larger context of native and foreign, as I compare Gogol’s and Neruda’s portrayal of Petersburg and Prague to their short stories and essays on Western European cities. The contrast between Western and Eastern European cities reveals how the author’s utilize themes of natural and artificial cities, belonging and alienation, and spiritual fulfillment to define cities and differentiate them from each other.
vi Table of Contents
Introduction Eccentric Origins…..…………………………………………………………………...…1
Chapter One……………………………………………………………………………...18 A Robing of Emptiness: Interior and Exterior Space in Gogol’s Петербургские повести
Chapter Two……………………………………………………………………….……..51 Caught in the Middle: Interior and Exterior Space in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské
Chapter Three………………………………………………………………………….....75 Creation and Alienation: Gogol’s “Рим” from the Perspective of Петербургские повести
Chapter Four……………………………………………………………………………109 Revolution and Ritual: Neruda’s Pařížské obrázky and Povídky malostranské
Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………...138 Eccentric Perspectives
Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………143
Vita……………………………………………………………………………………...148
vii List of Maps
St. Petersburg, 1993……………………………………………………………………...17
Prague, 1858……………………………………………………………………………..50
Rome, 1800………………………………………………………………………………74
Paris, 1871………………………………………………………………………………108
viii Introduction Eccentric Origins
In the Moscow apartment where I lived in the Fall of 1998, I regularly overheard my next door neighbor attempting to wake his mother each morning. Their borderline hostile conversation passed through the walls from their apartment to my kitchen.
“Mother, get up!” he insisted.
“It’s not time yet,” she barked.
“It’s already nine o’clock.”
“No, it’s three minutes till nine. You can wake me up at nine o’clock, and not one minute earlier!” she shrieked.
Not once did I see the son or his mother in person. If I ever did, I would have ducked my head and scurried into my own apartment. Although I felt somehow acquainted with them through overheard conversations like this one, my knowledge of their personal life embarrassed me. At the same time, I dreaded which aspects of my own private life the sound carrying cement walls had conveyed to these neighbors.
Inspired by my overseas experiences, I initially conceived of this project as an examination of public and private spaces. The process of researching and refining ideas led me to the boundaries of public and private space within the urban contexts of nineteenth century Czech and Russian literature. I decided to juxtapose the short story collections of two writers from the mid-1800s, Nikolai Gogol’s Петербургские повести and then Jan Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, for their common focus on urban space
1 and the humor and pathos in daily life. My preliminary research on urban space led me to Yuri Lotman’s Universe of the Mind and his notion of eccentric cities. His theories of eccentricity and semiotic space provided a base to connect the texts by two different writers, on two different cities. The theory of eccentricity binds together these short stories and authors, as I explore the defining qualities of St. Petersburg and Prague as eccentric cities.
Lotman’s discussion of eccentric cities in Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic
Theory of Culture hinges upon the concept of the semiosphere. He defines the semiosphere, as “the whole semiotic space of the culture in question”. The boundary surrounding this space defines a given area; while the diverse elements behind the border become linked together simply by virtue of existing within the same semiosphere. The border also separates those elements from the surrounding space, further defining them.
Therefore, the limits of the border clearly specify the binary oppositions of interior and exterior and a culture’s sense of ‘native’ and ‘foreign’ or ‘self’ and ‘other’. As a factor that both divides and unites, the boundary is ambivalent belonging to both interior and exterior frontiers, controlling and adapting the external into the internal, thus creating a particularly dynamic area.
The semiosphere represents the entire space of a city and may be applied to a variety of binary structures in urban space, such as homes and streets, with windows or doorways differentiating between them. On a larger scale, the semiosphere represents an entire empire, redefining the limits of the nation before and after conquests and wars. In this larger context of empire, cities bear particular symbolic significance. Throughout history, cities have been considered the physical center of a nation, regardless of their
2 geographical positioning, as well as the cultural nucleus, being representative of the surrounding area.1
Lotman suggests that there are two types of urban structures: concentric and eccentric. A concentric semiosphere, or traditional city, enforces its boundaries and remains separate from its surrounding territory. The traditional city space ideally embodies its country, often sitting upon a hill with the landscape radiating around it. The castle or primary fortress on the hilltop mediates between the lower land and the sky, symbolizing “at the same time an image of the heavenly city and a sacred place”.2 Not all cities symbolize the surrounding space or a sacred ideal in this manner, as they are
“placed eccentrically to its earth, beyond its boundaries”.3 This eccentric positioning refers to how a city relates to a nation culturally, rather than geographically. As a result, these atypical cities maintain varying degrees of openness and have contact with other spaces and cultures. In other words, an eccentric city does not clearly correspond to the nation in which it is located because of discrepancies in architecture, geography, history or politics, thus pushing it to the edge or beyond the perception of a country’s identity.
The cities of Saint Petersburg and Prague represent two examples of cities existing beyond the boundaries of their respective cultures in the nineteenth century.
Saint Petersburg, the capital of the Russian Empire and “Window to the West”, represented a focus on foreign rather than native culture. Similar tensions between internal and external cultures plagued Prague, the capital of an imagined Czech nation.
1 Lotman, Yuri. The Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic Theory of Culture. Trans. Ann Shukman. (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1990), 123-202. 2 Lotman, 192. 3 Lotman, 192.
3 Despite the majority of Czech residents, the preference for German language and art forms divided the city between Czechs and Germans while under Habsburg rule. The political and geographical circumstances of these cities, central but not representative of a nation, adhere them to Lotman’s definition of eccentrically located cities.
Saint Petersburg represents an urban space located on both the geographical and cultural edges of a nation: geographical because of its proximity to the West and the sea and cultural because of its representation of Western European cities. The roots of the city’s eccentricity lie in its founding and construction. According to legend, Peter the
Great hand-picked the site of his new city, marching through the swamplands with
Russian troops until he found the perfect location. In actuality, Russian troops constructed a fort along the Neva, which would allow them to protect the river and territory from foreign ships. The ensuing construction of this city radiated outward from the fort, later named the Peter and Paul Fortress. Peter, however, was not present when the troops began building the fortress; he arrived only six weeks later, after the troops established some basic structures around the fort.4
Peter the Great created St. Petersburg in order to modernize Russia by opening up direct water routes to Western Europe and to provide a base for the Russian navy, which
Peter modeled on Western European models. Geographically speaking, the space to become St. Petersburg provided few benefits aside from access to the open seas. The low- lying land consisted primarily of swamps and marshes. The absence of raised ground and the many inlets and streams caused frequent flooding. Moreover, six months out the year, the Neva was frozen, preventing access to the trade routes. Most of the water was
4 Lincoln, Bruce. Sunlight at Midnight: St. Petersburg and the Rise of Modern Russia. (New York: Basic Books, 2000),18.
4 brackish, and the fresh water was contaminated with parasites, like giardia, which plague the water supply to this day. These realities of St. Petersburg’s geography made it a less than ideal location for a city.
Constructing the city was a difficult, life-consuming process. The landscape required builders to drive sixteen foot long oak piles into the soil to support the construction of buildings. Peter the Great ordered tens of thousands of serfs and prisoners to St. Petersburg to assist in the construction of the city. The men received only the most basic tools, although many used their bare hands to dig and move soil. The expense of lives in the construction of St. Petersburg enabled one of the fastest built cities in history.
A mere nine years later, in 1712, Peter the Great proclaimed St. Petersburg the new capital of Russia.
While the origins of St. Petersburg demonstrate Peter’s exercise of power and use of force to quickly erect a city, Prague gradually evolved in a more traditional manner, both in terms of its spatial layout and geographical positioning. The eccentricity of
Prague lies beyond Lotman’s discussion of St. Petersburg and exists specifically within the cultural positioning of Prague, rather than its geographical location. Geographically speaking, Prague is central to Bohemia and Europe. Culturally speaking, the constant tension between Czech and German nationalities created an eccentric atmosphere as a once central space transformed into a secondary, almost provincial city.
Neruda’s Prague of the mid-nineteenth century carries several centuries of history along with it, unlike St. Petersburg. Archaeological remains suggest that as early as the sixth century B.C., humans inhabited present day Prague. According to legend, Princess
Libuše led Czech tribes to Prague, where they settled on the Šárka cliffs overlooking the
5 Vltava River. The first fortification, the Hradčany Castle, was constructed in Prague in the tenth century and stands upon the hill in comtemporary Malá Strana. Some legends claim that Vyšehrad, the fortress on the other side of river from Hradčany, was built earlier and that Libuše herself resided there. However, Vyšehrad was built sixty to seventy years after Hradčany. Settlements at this time concentrated in three areas: around
Hradčany in Malá Strana, across the river in Old Town, and down the river, by the secondary fortification of Vyšehrad. 5
Prague came to prominence in 1346, when Charles IV, King of Bohemia, was crowned the Roman King. In 1355, when he was crowned Emperor, his primary residence was Prague. Consequently, the city became the capital of the Roman Empire.
Charles IV died in 1378 and his son Václav IV inherited the throne. However, Vaclav lacked commitment to leadership and was deposed from the Roman throne in 1400. At this time, Prague ceased to function as capital of the Roman Empire. The city underwent yet another transformation in 1526, when Ferdinand I of the Hapsburgs was crowned
King of Bohemia, thus shaping the development of Prague until the early twentieth century.6
The eccentricity of Prague originates under the Austrian rule. Up until this time,
Prague existed as a traditional city. The Hradčany Castle sat upon a hilltop, placing the residents closer to the heavens. This location marked the divine nature of the leaders, and of the city itself. Under the Hapsburg Empire, however, Prague was transformed into a secondary city. Much of the Germanization of Prague occurred in the late eighteenth century, under Emperor Joseph II (1780-1790). During this decade, he decided German
5 Demetz, Peter. Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes in the Life of a European City. (New York: Hill and Wang, 1997), 3-31. 6 Čornej, Peter. Fundamentals of Czech History. (Prague: Práh, 1992), 15-32.
6 should be the administrative language of all written communications within the empire.
This process, which he argued would create a sense of fraternity, strongly affected
Czechs and Jews. At the same time, Joseph II abolished censorship, thus enabling a growing interest in Bohemian studies and allowing a rebirth of the Czech language outside of imperial administration. As part of this trend, the first university chair of Czech was established in Vienna in 1775, and in Prague, in 1791.7 The lack of Czech language until this time in universities and in Prague, points to a nation without a center, and a city without a nation. Joseph II’s changes, however, enabled the process of re-centering
Prague, as the language revived in Bohemia and then eased into Prague.
As part of this process, the city walks an ambiguous path. As Demetz writes, tourists raved about the charm of nineteenth century Prague. There were certain downfalls, however, owing to the relative provincialism of the city: “romantic Prague had bad plumbing and a few other problems; the narrow streets were muddy, street lighting, if any, was dubious, and bathrooms primitive”.8 The combination of a city popular among tourists, yet primitive in terms of modern conveniences demonstrates the eccentricity of a city stuck in transition.
The origins and histories of St. Petersburg and Prague, briefly as I have described them here, illuminate the tensions that plague the cities of Gogol’s and Neruda’s short stories. While the background of these cities certainly contributes to their eccentric image, the authorial perspectives of the cities carry the responsibility for their presentation as eccentric. The primary purpose of this dissertation is to examine the
7 Demetz, 251-252. 8 Demetz, 274.
7 authors’ portrayal of eccentricity and relate this to the physical and cultural space in each city.
As major writers, scholarship either on the authors or on Petersburg and Prague often references their literary representation of the cities’ unique atmospheres. A rich array of scholarship exists on Gogol, his portrayal of Petersburg and his perception of the
Russian nation. Older works include N.P. Antsiferov’s "Душа Петербурга"(1922), which positions Gogol as the first author to portray the bewitched nature of Petersburg and ignore its imperial past, and Donald Fanger’s Dostoevsky and Romantic Realism: A
Study of Dostoevsky in Relation to Balzac, Dickens and Gogol (1965), which discusses the supernatural and grotesque elements of the Gogolian Petersburg as representative of the city’s fragmented and unreal nature. More recent criticism, such as Amy Singleton’s
No Place Like Home (1997) explores the connection between home and the Russian nation in Gogol’s Dead Souls. On the theme of genre, Frames of the Imagination:
Gogol’s ‘Arabesques’ and the Romantic Question of Genre by Melissa Frazier examines
Gogol’s Arabesques in light of German Romanticism, noting the Romantic concern with nation that likewise interests Gogol and influences his writing. Because of the often noted discrepancy between Petersburg the city and the Russian nation, existing criticism lacks an in-depth exploration of the interconnection between the literary space of Russia’s nineteenth century capital and the boundaries of the nation.
Despite the strong interest in Twentieth Century Czech authors, current scholarship largely ignores the work of Jan Neruda, as Czech writer Ivan Klíma notes in the introduction to Michael Heim’s translation of Prague Tales.9 The lack of
9 Klíma, Ivan. Introduction to Prague Tales. Trans. Michael Heim. (New York: Central European University Press, 1993.)
8 monographs on Neruda, or any research comparable to that on Gogol, evidences Klíma’s claim. It is difficult to speculate why Czech and other scholars have produced so little criticism regarding Neruda’s prose. In the mid-twentieth century, the Soviets embraced
Neruda's realist writing style, and portrayal of daily existence, demonstrated by Anna
Solev'eva's Ян Неруда и утверждение реализма в Чешской литературе, published in
1973. This might have induced scholars of that generation to avoid Neruda’s writing.
Scholars for many generations have viewed Neruda as anti-semitic on the basis of an
1869 article “Pro strach židovský“ (“The Jewish Fear”), and for this reason, may not be interested in researching his work.10 I also suspect that his prolific use of feuilletons enforces the perception of Neruda as a journalist or political activist over that of a writer of fiction, thereby discouraging literary scholars from researching his work. While works centered around Neruda do not abound, recent scholarship on Czech culture does include studies focused particularly on Prague, such as Angelo Maria Rippellino’s Magic Prague
(1973) and Peter Demetz’s Prague in Black and Gold: Scenes in the Life of a European
City (1997). Rippellino and Demetz both mention and summarize Neruda’s work, but do not analyze his stories.
By combining literary and urban studies, this dissertation explores the ways in which Nikolai Gogol’s Петербургские повести (Petersburg Tales, 1833-1842) and Jan
Neruda’s Povídky malostranské (Prague Tales, 1867-1878) depict the cultural and physical space of Petersburg and Prague as eccentric. The complex cultural geography of
Petersburg and Prague, particularly related to the tensions between Eastern and Western
Europe shape the definition of interior and exterior spaces in each city. These spaces, in
10 Demetz, Peter. Prague in Black and Gold. (New York: Hill and Wang, 1997) 315. Also, Sayer, Derek. The Coasts of Bohemia: A Czech History. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998) 113.
9 turn, both reflect and influence the daily existence of both fictive and real characters.
Lotman’s binary semiosphere system provides a means for dividing and analyzing the interior and exterior or private and public spheres in St. Petersburg and Prague. The image of eccentrcity, however, arises from Gogol’s and Neruda’s portrayal of these cities as somehow disconnected from their nations. To complement the authors’ representation of eccentric cities, I turn to Gogol’s and Neruda’s writings on two cities, Rome and Paris respectively, which they perceive as traditional, if not concentric. From a larger perspective, Petersburg and Prague embody interior space as the “home” or “native” territory, while Rome and Paris reflect the exterior sphere, or “foreign” experiences. The juxtaposition of these four cities allow for an understanding of eccentric and traditional to be a matter of individual perspective, as much as historical influences.
In Chapters One and Two, I explore the dualities of cultural and physical space in
Petersburg and Prague as portrayed in Gogol’s Петербургские повести and Neruda’s
Povídky malostranské. As Lotman notes, “Every culture begins by dividing the world into ‘its own’ internal space and ‘their’ external space”.11 Based on this binary system of interior and exterior, I examine the physical and semiotic space within the city, contrasting characters’ homes as representative of self and nation, with public spaces, such as streets and workplaces, representing chaos and the masses. In order to connect
Gogol’s and Neruda’s portrayals of these cities to the actual physical space in the city, I explore architectural trends relevant to their writing. Examining their prose in light of these architectural tendencies connects Gogol’s and Neruda’s presentation of their cities to a broader interpretation of each city’s character.
11 Lotman, 193.
10 In the case of Saint Petersburg, the legendary history of a city forced into existence by Peter the Great at the expense of thousands of serfs’ lives, growing so quickly under the Tsar’s insistence that it seemed to magically appear, manifests itself in the streets and squares. The Tsar’s seeming indifference to the serf’s fatal labor reveals the inexplicable and cruel atmosphere of Saint Petersburg: characters misperceive their surroundings in “Невский проспект” (“The Nevsky Prospect”) and “Записки
сумашедшего,” (“Notes of a Madman”) while a biting wind tortures people rushing along the sidewalks in “Шинель,” (“The Overcoat”) and a nose parades through town in
“Нос” (“The Nose.”) The interior spaces of homes and workshops contain layers of the resident’s occupation. The brothel in “Невский проспект,” for example, consists of dusty curtains and worn out armchairs, symbolizing the prostitutes’ lack of domesticity.
The artists’ workshops, on the other hand, contain cluttered scraps of supplies, except in the case of one highly efficient and organized stereotypically German blacksmith.
The construction of buildings and city squares in nineteenth century Petersburg demonstrates many themes found in Gogol’s Петербургские повести, such as foreign versus native and contrasting absence and presence in spaces. The architects Carlo Rossi,
Vasilii Stasov and Auguste Montferrand, representing Italian, Russian and French traditions, designed the majority of buildings and squares in the 1820s and 1830s. Their neo-classical designs, based on Roman structures, embody the image of St. Petersburg as a imitation of Western European cities. The massive Cathedrals, such as Kazan
Cathedral and St. Isaac’s Cathedral represent the filling of space, and the ongoing creation and construction of the Russian capital. In contrast, the squares, most notably
11 Palace square, emphasize the vastness of the Northern swamplands. Through the architectural design, the origins of the city shape its present form and atmosphere.
In Neruda’s Prague, ethnicity defines interior and exterior space. The influences of Czech, German, Italian and Jewish culture define the city streets, as the different nationalities and ethnic groups mingle together in public space. In contrast, a single nationality – Czech – comprises the interior space of tenement homes and the local pubs of Malá Strana. The majority of Neruda’s Povídky malostránské take place within homes or other nearby local spaces, revealing the tightly knit community of Czechs within
Prague. The sharp division between interior and exterior space reflects the dual nature of
Prague. Dualities also appear in legends revealing “Magic Prague” as demonic and heavenly, and historical circumstance marking the city as home to both Czech and
Germans. Various liminal spaces provide a means for connecting these two worlds, such as windows opening from the homes onto the streets and enabling one to cross between the mundane and magical or the demonic and heavenly. Other areas, such as streets or the workplace allow Czechs and Germans to mingle together peacefully, if not always willingly, from Neruda’s perspective.
The architecture of Prague, particularly within Malá Strana demonstrates the tension between Czech and German cultures, as the reconstruction of palaces and churches in the Sixteenth century indicates the Habsburg political and religious influence.
Catholic churches in the Baroque style replaced Protestant Gothic cathedrals, while the reigning German nobility relocating to Prague constructed elaborate Baroque palaces in empty lots or razed decrepit homes.
12 In Chapters Three and Four, I use the binary structure of interior and exterior space in a larger context, as I compare Gogol’s and Neruda’s portrayal of Petersburg and
Prague to their short stories and essays on Western European cities. Gogol, who spent several years living in Europe, frequently compares Petersburg to Italian cities in the
Петербургские повести. He wrote his unfinished novel “Рим” (“Rome”) as a counterpoint to his depiction of the Petersburg lifestyle. Neruda, on the other hand, refers to European cities only in passing in Povídky malostranské. Neruda also traveled extensively throughout Europe and recorded his impressions of the cities he visited in several non-fictional essays. To position their writings within a cultural context, my analysis focuses on the cultural space of religion, politics, and social interaction of Rome as the urban other to St. Petersburg and of Paris as the alternative to Prague.
In Chapter Three, I compare Gogol’s Rome as a traditional city and Petrsburg as an eccentric one. “Рим” provides a contrast to the inadequacies of spirituality and layers of history in Saint Petersburg. Tracing themes of sprituality, creativity, and alienation from society, I examine how these areas intersect in urban space and prevent individuals from connecting with their surroundings. Spirituality defines the urban space of both
Rome and St. Petersburg. In “Рим” as the young prince returns home, his first stop in
Italy is in a small church outside of Genoa. This private moment of prayer enables the
Prince to reconnect to his country spiritually and physically, as a deeper sense of self- awareness accompanies his return to his native land. In contrast, in the church scenes from “Нос” (“The Nose”) in St. Petersburg, the characters spend little time comtemplating God or religion, thus revealing the superficiality of spiritual existence in
St. Petersburg. Spirituality proves an important aspect of creative expression, inspiring
13 great works of art regardless of a religious subject. In both “Невский Проспект” and in
“Портрет”, Gogol contrasts Saint Petersburg artwork with that produced in Italy.
Spritual awareness inspires Italian works of art, thereby filling audiences with a sense of higher existence. Demonic forces, or simple greed, shape St. Petersburg artwork in
Gogol’s tales, thus reflecting the shallowness of St. Petersburg society and the underlying powers of a city built on the bones of serfs.
The spirtual and creative atmsophere in Rome and St. Petersburg define the urban space and differentiate these cities from each other. In both cities, characters struggle to interact with the city, often seeming alienated from their surroundings. In Rome, the spirituality and creative expression inherent to the city enable the young prince to overcome feelings of alienation and interact with the city of Rome. In St. Petersburg, the lack of spirituality and the superficial creative expression encourages alienation from one’s surroundings, destining residents of this city to loneliness.
In Chapter Four, I contrast Neruda’s representations of cosmopolitan nineteenth century Paris with the comparably provincial area of Malá Strana in Prague. In examining
Neruda’s Parisian essays and Prague short stories, several overlapping spaces and themes appear, suggesting that these places define urban space for him. His writings on urban spaces reveal common themes of rituals related to shopping and consumerism, dining etiquette, and family life. In Paris, advertising and arcades shape urban space, influencing how one moves around the city. This introduces the issue of community- based versus commercial shopping. In Prague, the survival of a business depends on contacts within the community, whereas in Paris advertisement by physical location or word of mouth is key. The dining establishments of Paris reveal the rituals surrounding
14 French cuisine including everything from the types of food served at each locale to the clientele. In Prague, rituals similarly revolve around neighborhood pubs. However,
Czech pub rituals differ from Parisian restuarants in that they involve arriving at the same place, sitting in the same seat, and placing the same order. The rituals occur as a regular routine within a small community, rather than the etiquette that arises in a cosmopolitan capital.
While many of Neruda’s Parisian essays describe the space in neutral or appreciative terms, he reveals his knowledge of French culture in one particular essay
“Mozaika lidu i života.” Written from the perspective of an observer in a busy square,
Neruda explains and criticizes the distance between city and country in French culture, and the tradition of wet-nurses, rather than parents, raising Parisian children during their early years. This essay demonstrates the depth of Neruda’s knowledge regarding French culture, but serves as a balance to his fascination with French cuisine and shopping. In
Neruda’s stories set in Prague, the relationships between families and neighbors contrast sharply with those in Paris. Neighbors and family members live close together, peering through each other’s windows and maintaining a constant awareness of the other’s activities and personal habits. While the lack of boundaries surrounding personal space proves intrusive in many cases in Prague, Neruda embraces the resulting familial community of this city that he struggles to find in Paris.
Juxtaposing Gogol’s and Neruda’s prose reveals overlaps in certain themes, such as homes reflecting the individual, streets representing the masses, architectural trends defining the intangible atmosphere of space, and a quest for belonging amidst alienation, suggest the existence of a broad interpretation of literary and cultural urban space.
15 However, Gogol and Neruda wrote from remarkably different points of view. Gogol hated St. Petersburg. He wrote to portray the twisted, mysterious and often cruel nature of this city. He wanted to project this city as defective and demonic. Neruda, in contrast, loved Prague. His short stories contributed to the rebirth of Czech language and literature in the nineteenth century. From a political perspective, his emphasis on Czech culture in
Prague strove to reclaim the city for the Czech nation. These opposing motivations prevent weaving together an overarching theme on the representation of eccentricity.
Instead, the common thread appears in the authors’ perspectives on St. Petersburg and
Prague: for all their differences in origin, history, architectural design, and literary history, Gogol and Neruda both considered the cities about which they wrote to be atypical.
16 St. Petersburg, 1893 Perry-Casteñeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas Libraries
17 Chapter One A Robing of Emptiness: Interior and Exterior Space in Gogol’s Петербургские повести
Yuri Lotman, in Universe of the Mind, describes Saint Petersburg, the capital of the Russian Empire from 1703 to 1917, and Russia's Window to the West, as a city placed eccentrically to its earth, beyond its boundaries.1 The notion of an eccentric city, as set forth by Lotman, contrasts with the traditional conception of a capital city as being located within its nation's geographical center, as well as being isomorphic to the surrounding territory. An eccentric city, however, suggests a metropolis that does not clearly correspond to the nation in which it is located because of discrepancies in architecture, geography, history or politics, thus pushing it to the edge or beyond the perception of a country's identity. Saint Petersburg fits into this nontraditional understanding of a city on the edge both geographically and culturally as its location on the Baltic Sea indicates a physical and symbolic focus on Western Europe.
The creation of Petersburg calls to mind themes of power, hierarchy, and
Westernization. Peter the Great traveled extensively throughout Europe, but was particularly impressed by Dutch cities and culture. Inspired by them to form a Navy and create better trade routes via the sea with Western Europe, he chose to build a city close to Europe and easily accessible by the sea. The vast and undeveloped swamp and lake- filled area near the Gulf of Finland provided a good location for trade routes with Europe, but not for the establishment of a city. Building on wetlands posed many difficulties that required fortitude and creativity to overcome. Peter the Great realized his goals by
1 Lotman, Yuri, Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic Theory of Culture, trans. Ann Shukman (New York: I.B. Taurus, 2001) 192.
18 imitating the canal system of Amsterdam and utilizing tens of thousands of serfs. The record amount of time - ten years - in which Peter the Great built Saint Petersburg testifies to his willpower and the lives of serfs crushed by the city's construction.
Although many members of nobility were reluctant to leave Moscow for this uninhabited city, Peter the Great required them to build palaces in his new city or renounce their titles.
Thus, the eccentricity of Saint Petersburg accompanies its very origins and development within the Russian Empire.2
Nikolai Gogol's portrayal of Petersburg as a disorderly, chaotic and often mysterious city in his collection of short stories referred to as Петербургские повести
(Petersburg Tales) reflect the historical and theoretical images of Saint Petersburg as a city on the edge of a territory, nation, and culture. Gogol makes use of the constructed spaces within the city, such as streets, homes and open squares to guide the plot of his stories and reflect the personalities of his characters. The organization of the interior world of the home reveals hidden layers of a character's identity and reality, including personality traits, family life, and professional occupation. Exterior space contrasts with the intimate and unique details of interior areas, as city streets and squares define the atmosphere of Saint Petersburg, comprising disorder, deception, and the creation mythology surrounding Peter the Great’s “Window on the West.” Gogol utilizes Saint
Petersburg’s geography and cultural symbolism particularly in creating his exterior spaces, since climatic factors, such as the wind, allude to Petersburg’s positioning in the extreme North and the power struggle between humans and nature that characterized the
2 Many scholars have documented the creation of Saint Petersburg from a factual and mythological perspective. Therefore, I do not discuss this at great length here. The first chapter of Bruce Lincoln’s Sunlight at Midnight: St. Petersburg and the Rise of Modern Russia (New York: Basic Books, 2000) and the introduction to Katerina Clark’s Petersburg, Crucible of Cultural Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995) explain the various mythologies and historical details of Petersburg’s creation.
19 city’s development. Other factors, such as characters’ tendencies to misperceive the world around them in “Невский Проспект”(“The Nevsky Prospect”) and “Записки
сумашедшего,” (“Notes of a Madman”) mirror the dramatic transformation Peter the
Great forced upon the land. Drawing on Lotman's concept of eccentric cities and
Петербургские повести, in this chapter I will explore defined spaces - both interior and exterior - as well as the boundaries separating them within the context of Gogol's perception of St. Petersburg.
The distinctive atmosphere of Gogol's St. Petersburg comes across most clearly within the space of the streets, amidst the chaotic mix of smells, exaggerated appearance of body parts and classes of people on Nevsky Prospect. The jumble of beggars and nobility, smells of freshly baked bread, and shop windows filled with Parisian fashions and other imported goods described throughout the Петербургские повести serves as a microcosm for the entire city. The diversity seen in Gogol's short stories was in fact a defining quality of St. Petersburg. Bruce Lincoln notes in Sunlight at Midnight,
Petersburg contained the most socially diverse group of citizens in the Russian Empire, as nobility and servants lived together in the same part of town and Russians mixed with
British and Germans in the very center of town.3 The non-Russian population in St.
Petersburg existed at the time of its construction, when Peter the Great invited skilled artisans from Europe, particularly France, Germany, and Italy, and forced Swedish
Prisoners of War to assist in its development. While Russian remained the predominant nationality in Saint Petersburg, the percentage of Russians in the capital city diminished
3 Lincoln, Sunlight at Midnight, 56.
20 from 92-94% in the eighteenth century to 83% by the end of the nineteenth century.4 In
1869, when the Russian government officially began to track ethnic populations in Saint
Petersburg, they found that Germans comprised the highest percentage of non-Russians in the city, or 6.8% of the total population.5
The diversity of Petersburg in terms of population and foreign influence was not so extensive as to eliminate Russian dominance, but strong enough that by comparison with other Russian cities of the nineteenth century, the amount of ethnic groups was extremely unique. Cultural diversity is, in fact, typical for capital cities and in this regard, Saint Petersburg fits the pattern for capitals, but leaves the city eccentric for
Russia. For Gogol, however, the disorder and chaos typical of the urban center translates into the deceptive atmosphere that defines St. Petersburg. In the words of Donald
Fanger, who emphasizes the importance of the aura that Gogol creates: “the city is less geographical, political, or aesthetic unity than an atmosphere.”6
This atmosphere proves intangible and difficult to define, but throughout the tales, the city consistently entices and deceives characters. As the narrator of “Невский
Проспект” describes, “Хотя бы имел какое-нибудь нужное, необходимое дело, но
4 The Russian government began to track populations only in 1869, so prior to this date all percentages are estimated. For more details of the ethnic composition of St. Petersburg, see Многонациональный Петербург: История, Религия, Природы (Санкт-Петербург: Искусство - СПБ, 2002). 5 While higher concentrations of foreigners lived in certain parts of town, such as Vasilyevsky Island or along Nevsky Prospect in the primary merchant district, for the most part the non-Russian population was highly assimilated into Saint Petersburg and they did not seek out housing in areas dominated by their own ethnic group. Non-Russians also did not seek out employment in certain industries, although many of them were merchants or skilled craftsmen. In one exception, A.V. Repina points out in her article “Немецские булочники в Санкт-Петербурге” the Germans were very influential in the bakery industry, belonging to a guild especially for foreigners and hiring only German apprentices to train in their craft. This suggests that while some divisions between ethnic groups existed, the various groups managed to coexist. 6 Fanger, Donald, Dostoevsky and Romantic Realism: A Study of Dostoevsky in Relation to Balzac, Dickens, and Gogol (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974) 114.
21 взошедши на него, верно, позабудешь о всяком деле.”7 The attraction of the street initially seems to lie in the entertainment of window shopping and observing everyone from civil workers rushing to work to wealthy citizens displaying their fine clothing.
Underlying this surface impression, however, exists a somewhat sinister quality. As the narrator states in the opening description of Petersburg's main street, the individuals proudly showing off their own flashy clothing or wistfully longing after expensive jewelry in shop windows “все вымещает на нём могушество силы или могушество
слабости.”8
While this ability to reveal hidden qualities of a character seems harmless enough, the narrator cautions the reader not to trust any impressions gained on Petersburg's main artery. As he suggests, the atmosphere of this crowded outdoor space is more than just deceitful, it is demonic:
Далее, ради Бога, далее от фонаря! И скорее, сколько можно скорее, проходите мимо. Это счастье еще, если отделаетесь тем, что он зальет щегольский сюртук ваш вонючим своим маслом. Но и кроме фонаря, все дышит обманом. Он лжет во всякое время, этот Невский проспект, но более всего тогда, когда ночь сгущенною массою наляжет на него и отделит белые и палевые стены домов, когда весь город превратится в гром и блеск, мириады карет валятся с мостов, форейторы кричат и прыгают на лошадях и когда сам демон зажигает лампы для того только, чтобы показать все не в настоящем виде.9
7 Николай Гоголь, “Невский Проспект”, Собрание сочинений в двух томах, том II (Москва:Полиграфресурсы, 1999) 351. “You may have had some pressing business to attend to, but the moment you step on to Nevsky, you will forget all your commitments”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, Nikolai. “The Nevsky Prospect,” Plays and Petersburg Tales, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995) 3. 8 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект,” 352. “They all display their special power, be it the power of strength or the power of weakness.” Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Nevsky Prospect,” 3-4. 9 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект,” 386. “Keep your distance from the street-lamps, I implore you, and hurry past them quickly, as quickly as possible. Count yourself lucky if they only spill their malodorous oil on your fashionable frock-coat. But everything, not only the street-lamp exudes deceit. Nevsky Prospect deceives at all hours of the day, but the worst time of all is at night, when darkness descends upon it like a dense blanket and only the entire city becomes a welter of noise and flashing lights, when myriads of carriages rattle down from the bridges, the postilions cry out and jig on their horses and when the devil himself is abroad, kindling the street-lamps
22 The introduction of a demonic influence in the last sentence of the story colors everything the reader has just encountered in “Невский Проспект.” From this perspective, the lure of fine jewelry and clothing and the revelation of one’s strength or weakness takes on a malicious hue, as the streets attract characters with the singular purpose of misleading and confusing their lives.
The malicious influence of the devil on the city streets proves a defining element in Gogol's tales as the plot revolves around events that occur within this space. To continue to discuss “Невский Проспект,” the cataclysmic events of the tale take place on the Nevsky Prospect: the young artist Piskaryov perceives a prostitute's beauty as sacred, while the officer Pirogov believes that a married woman admires him and decides to pursue her. These mistaken perceptions provide the basis for the two gentlemen's obsession for these women around which the tale revolves. Piskaryov becomes so unwilling to accept that the beautiful woman is a vulgar prostitute that he relies heavily on opium to remain in a perpetual dream state and then slits his throat. Pirogov obsessively visits the married German woman, until her husband, a Blacksmith named
Schiller, becomes so angered that he humiliates Pirogov by beating him. However, as officer Pirogov walks down Nevsky Prospect at the end of the tale, he inexplicably forgives Schiller, thus exemplifying the mysterious powers of the avenue.
Contrary to the last line of the tale, already discussed, which suggests that the demon’s hand guides the transformative power of the Nevsky Prospect, Pirogov’s forgiveness must be construed as ambiguous. Leaving behind his anger frees him to
with one purpose only: to show everything in a false light”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Nevsky Prospect,” 36.
23 continue on with his day, and enjoy his stroll along Nevsky Prospect. However, the sudden change in his mood indicates the street’s troubling ability to metamorphize those stepping upon the pavement. Regardless of the positive outcome in this example, the manipulation of people on the city streets is troubling, to say the least, and indicates the strength of the intangible and undefined power in the city’s atmosphere.
Whereas the devil's manipulation of street lamps causes residents to incorrectly perceive the world around them in “Невский Проспект,” the vicious weather of St.
Petersburg, in particular the wind, represents the devil's malicious influences, by defining the atmosphere of the streets and controlling the characters in “Шинель”(“The
Overcoat”). The frost, which the narrator claims can improve one's health just as easily as it can ruin it, causes pain and suffering to everyone venturing out on the streets in winter weather, particularly those of modest salaries:
Есть в Петербурге сильный враг всех, получающих четыреста рублей в год жалованья или около того. Враг этот не кто другой, как наш северный мороз, хотя, впрочем, и говорит, что он очень здоров. В девятом часу утра, именно в тот час, когда улицы покрываются идущими в департамент, начинает он давать такие сильные и колючие щелчки без разбору по всем носам, что бедные чиновники решительно не знают, куда девать их. В это время, когда даже у занимающих высшие должности болит от морозу лоб и слезы выступают в глазах, бедные титулярные советники иногда бывают беззащитны.10
In this tale, Gogol relies upon the wind to embody an uncontrollable power on the streets of Saint Petersburg. While the wealthier citizens, who can afford fine coats, are able to
10 Гоголь, Николай, “Шинель”, Собрание сочинений в двух томах, том II (Полиграфресурсы, Москва, 1999) 475-476. “All those in St. Petersburg who receive a salary of four hundred or thereabouts have one implacable enemy. This enemy is none other than our northern frost, although you also hear it said that it is good for the health. At eight in the morning, the very hour when the streets fill with functionaries scurrying to their departments, it goes to work, administering sharp and stinging blows on their noses, which their wretched owners are quite unable to protect. At such times, when even those holding senior office feel the skin on their faces tighten with cold and tears spring to their eyes, the poor titular councillors are defenceless”. Translated Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat,” 120.
24 protect themselves somewhat better than the less affluent citizens, who wear inferior coats, the power of the wind lies in its ability to affect all citizens to some extent. The demonic imagery in the misperceptions on the city streets and the cruelty of the frost relate to the eccentric geographical positioning of Saint Petersburg. As the passage above states, the extreme cold arises from the northern location of Saint Petersburg. Thus, the eccentricity of Saint Petersburg causes the suffering of its residents.
The theft of Akaky's prized overcoat demonstrates that not only the weather, but also criminals, threaten one’s safety outdoors. As Akaky walks along the deserted streets at night, he reaches a point where “перерезывалась улица бесконечно площадью с
едва видными на другой стороне ее домами, которая глядела страшною пустынею.”11
Akaky Akakievich fearfully steps into the expanse of the square “не без какой-то
невольной боязни, точно как будто сердце его предчувствовало что-то недоброе.”12
Akaky's premonition comes true, as the theft of his coat occurs in this space, making a void in his life that parallels the emptiness of the square. The emptiness in physical space and Akaky’s spiritual realm recalls the eccentric positioning of Saint Petersburg, as the narrator makes a connection between the geographical location of the city and the malicious act as the far side of the square appears “на край света.”13 This scene reveals how the eccentricity enables the atmosphere to maliciously toy with characters as the
11 Гоголь, “Шинель,” 489. “the street opened into a vast square, a terrible void, on the far side of which the buildings were barely visible”. Translated Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat,”133. 12 Гоголь, “Шинель,” 489. “with an involuntary sense of dread, as if with inner premonitions that something bad was about to happen”. Translated Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat,” 133. 13 Гоголь, “Шинель,” 489. “on the very edge of the world”. Translated Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat,” 133.
25 theft on the street robs him not only of his prized coat, but also of his ticket into society, friendship with his colleagues, his health, and eventually his life.
The act of theft and its geographical location on an expansive square connotes the emptiness of Petersburg's atmosphere that underlies all of “Шинель.” Akaky Akakievich contributes to this atmosphere, as his ghost seeks revenge and haunts the streets of
Petersburg, stealing overcoats from wealthy citizens. The geographical pattern of his hauntings underscores the vastness of Petersburg, as the ghost gradually moves outside of the city center and into the symbolically transitional location of Kalinkin Bridge, the last bridge across the Fontanka Canal before it empties into the Neva. After stealing the coat of the significant personage, who treated his complaint of theft with such indifference,
Akaky Akakievich's ghost slowly recedes to the very edges of St. Petersburg in
Vasilievsky Island, thus pushing the focus of the tale further and further into emptiness.
Streets also function as a site of mysterious and powerful happenings in “Нос,”
(“The Nose”) as characters in this short story fail to notice the unusual event of a nose independently wandering around the town, but do gather around to observe it as a famous and distinguished figure. Saint Petersburg's residents regularly flock to areas where the nose has been observed to try and catch glimpses of the nose: “скоро начили говорить,
будто нос коллежского асессора Ковалева ровно в три часа прогуливается по
Невскому проспекту. Любопытных стекалось каждый день множество.”14 Thus,
Gogol repeats using Nevsky Prospect as a site for inexplicable and mysterious events.
14 Николай Гоголь, “Нос”, Собрание сочинений в двух томах, том II (Полиграфресурсы, Москва, 1999) 409. “rumor had Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov’s nose taking a daily stroll along Nevsky Prospect at three o’clock sharp. Every day, a large crowd of inquisitive onlookers would gather.” Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Nose,” 57.
26 Moving away from the streets into the interior space of the home provides insight into personal details of characters’ lives and the shaping power of the city on their existence. Typically in opposition to each other, the material difference in interior and exterior spaces brings out different aspects of the characters: exterior spaces indicate how characters participate in the broader discourse of city life, such as interacting with other residents on the streets, whereas interior spaces reflect the impact of that city on one’s lifestyle, as well as one’s monetary income and personal interests. To use other language, the tension between homes and city streets reveals private and public personas. While interior and exterior spaces do contrast with each other, there is no escaping their mutual presence in an eccentric city. Therefore, regardless of the physical boundaries separating them, the intangible qualities of the Saint Petersburg atmosphere nonetheless bleed into homes. The manipulative atmosphere of the streets that causes characters to desire what cannot be obtained, see what does not exist, and believe what is unbelievable, manifests itself within interior spaces in the form of dreams or artistic creations. The view into the home, and the ensuing details regarding that character’s life reveals the overlapping elements of interior and exterior space, Saint Petersburg’s eccentricity on lifestyles and personalities.
The idea of home as representative of a character's most private self comes across most clearly in Gogol's “Записки сумашедшего”. In this tale, a lowly, but ambitious, clerk Aksenty Ivanovich, falls in love with his department director's daughter, Sofiya.
During his frequent visits to the director’s home, when he sits in the study and sharpens quills, he daydreams of developing a more personal relationship with Sofiya. In the
27 clerk's daydreams, his desire to see beyond the walls of the director's study symbolizes his hope for intimacy with Sofiya. As the clerk writes in his diary:
Хотелось бы мне заглянуть в гостиную, куда видишь только иногда отворенную дверь, за гостиную еще в одну комнату. Эх, какое богатое убранство! Какие зеркала и фарфоры! Хотелось бы мне заглянуть туда, на ту половину, где ее превосходительво, - вот куда хотелось бы мне! В будуар: как там стоят все эти баночки, скляночки, цветы такие, что и дохнуть на них страшно; как лежит там разбросанное ее платье, больше похоже на воздух, чем на платье. Хотелось бы заглянуть в спальню … там-то, я думаю, чудеса, там-то, я думаю, рай, какого и на небесах нет. Посмотреть на бы ту скамеечку, на которую она становит, вставая с постели, свою ножку, как надевается на эту ножку белый, как снег, чулочек…15
The representation of Sofiya's bedroom in the narrator’s imagination reveals the connection between physical space and personality. As the narrator’s fantasy suggests, the design and décor in the bedroom reflects the owner’s beauty and elegance. The absence of Sofiya in this passage emphasizes that the narrator equates the space of her boudoir with her personal identity. The implication of his daydream is that access to a bedroom equals knowledge of a person’s private life. The bedroom symbolizes the physical and emotional space of Sofiya’s private world, thus the narrator views the boudoir as the end goal of his attempts to become intimate with the director’s daughter.
While the description of the Sofiya’s room conveys the sense of her boudoir as a private sanctuary, the actual positioning of it speaks to her social status and relationship with the narrator. Keeping in mind that the description from the room appears in the main character’s fantasies about developing a close relationship with Sofiya, the
15 Гоголь, “Записки сумашедшего,” 520. “I’d like to peek into their drawing room, where sometimes you can see an open door leading into yet another room. Lord, the richness, the finery! The mirrors and the fine china! I’d like to have a look in there, in her Ladyship’s half of the house, that’s what I’d like! I’d sneak into the boudoir, where she has all her little pots and phials, and such exquisite flowers that you wouldn’t dare breathe on them, I’d see her dress lying there, so ethereal it is more like air than a dress. Oh, for a look into the bedroom…In there I reckon you would see something truly wondrous, you would find a paradise to surpass even that in heaven. You would see the little stool on which she places her dainty foot as she alights from her bed, and see her drawing on her snow-white stocking…”. Gogol, “Diary of a Madman,” 164.
28 seclusion of her room from the rest of the house signals her emotional and social distance from the narrator. Sofiya lacks interest in pursuing a relationship with the young clerk, who according to her dog’s correspondence is such an “урод” that “Софи никак не
может удержаться от смеха, когда глядит на него.”16 Also, as the director’s daughter, this young woman belongs to a social class significantly further up the hierarchy than
Aksenty Ivanovich, a modest clerk. Aksenty’s unobtainable desire to develop a romantic relationship with Sofiya reflects Lotman’s argument of eccentric cities as symbolizing hopelessness, although they fall short of apocalyptic. From a spatial perspective,
Sofiya’s boudoir mimics Saint Petersburg’s positioning of an eccentric city. The room is located centrally within the house, but at the same time, secluded and inaccessible, just as an eccentric city is the capital of a nation, making it central to politics but not to the people or culture, while geographical location on the edge of the nation’s territory symbolizes its cultural distance.
Piskaryov, the young artist of “Невский Проспект,” inhabits a typical artist's apartment, filled with “всякий художественный вздор: гипсовые руки и ноги,
сделавшиеся кофейными от времени и пыли, изломанные живописные станки,
опрокинутая палитра, приятель, играющий на гитаре.”17 Importantly, the narrator never describes Piskaryov's apartment specifically and the absence of a description reflects this character's refusal to exist in reality and preference for his opium-induced dream world upon falling in love with a beautiful woman on Nevsky Prospect. The
16 Гоголь, “Записки Сумашедшего,” 525. “gargoyle” that “Sophie simply cannot stop herself laughing when she looks at him.” Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Diary of a Madman,” 169. 17 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект,” 358. “all sorts of artist’s clutter: plaster-of-Paris arms and legs, to which time and the accretions of dust have imparted the hue of coffee, dilapidated workbenches, an up-ended palette, a friend playing the guitar”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Nevsky Prospect,” 9-10.
29 woman serves as the impetus for him to transition from reality to fantasy, as he imagines her, a mysterious and elegant woman, only to discover that she is a coarse-speaking prostitute. Disenchanted with reality, Piskoryov chooses to live in an opium induced sleep, dreaming of this beautiful prostitute. Thus, his artistic skills manifest themselves, not in sculpture or paintings, but in the creation of a dream world. His dreams become such a powerful force that he perceives these visions as reality, rather than the world around him: “Наконец сновидения сделались его жизнию, и с этого времени вся
жизнь его приняла странный оборот: он, можно сказать, спал наяву и бордствовал
во сне.”18 Piskaryov incorporates the fantastical realm of Nevsky Prospect, where the inexplicable and unthinkable color all incidents, into the private space of his apartment.
The manipulative force in the exterior world creeps into his apartment in the form of a gray stifling light that represents the dreary Saint Petersburg climate. As Piskaryov longs for the animated and beautiful world of his dreams, he complains about the outside light:
“Досадный свет неприятным своим тусклым сиянием глядел в его окна. Комната в
таком сером, таком мутном беспорядке.”19 In doing so, he interchanges fantasy and reality, becoming so enamored of his fabricated world that he can no longer tolerate the existing one. This interchange calls to mind the chaos inherent in an artist's studio, where truth and fiction become too intertwined to be separated.
The disorganization typical of an artist's studio, albeit from a different perspective, appears again in “Невский Проспект” in the workshop belonging to
18 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект,” 369. In the end he started to live only for his dreams, and from this moment his existence took a strange turn: it was as though he slept during his waking life and was only awake when he slept”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Nevsky Prospect,” 20. 19 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект,” 368. “The bleak, unwelcome face of dawn appeared at his windows, shedding its cold grey light over the disorder of his room”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Nevsky Prospect,” 19.
30 Schiller, the German blacksmith.20 Gogol creates a parallel between Schiller's workshop and the typical artist’s studio outlined previously in “Невский Проспект” through a description echoing the chaotic spread of supplies and tools. As Pirogov, who has followed Schiller’s wife home, first walks into the space, he finds himself “в большой
комнате с черными стенами, с закопченными потолком. Куча железных винтов, слесарных инструментов, блестящих кофейников и подсвечников была на столе;
пол был засорен медными и железными опилками.”21 The disorder of his workshop recalls the scattered art supplies seen in Piskaryov's home/studio that typify the
Petersburg artist. The dark walls and ceiling give the room a cave-like sense of enclosure, the shavings of bronze and steel, symbols of Schiller’s creativity, brighten the floor. Whereas Pirogov’s fantasies define him and his artistry, here the scraps of metal define Schiller as a blacksmith, suggesting that he is strong and resilient like the metals.
The coffeepot, possibly shiny from either frequent use or a meticulous owner, and the candles on the tables support this notion, implying that Shiller spends long hours in his workshop.
Unlike Piskaryov’s combined living and working space, Schiller's home consists of an area clearly divided from the creative space of his workshop, reflecting his German nationality in its precise organization. The chaotic atmosphere of the studio, however, does not extend into the living space of Schiller's home. As the narrator notes, the home's neatness indicated “хозяин был немец.”22 The extreme organization of the home reveals
20 The name Schiller may refer to Fredrich Schiller (1759-1805), the German romantic poet. Answers.com. 22 August 2005
31 Gogol's stereotypes of this nationality. It is not insignificant that the only separate home space in “Невский Проспект” belongs to a German, since Gogol perceived St.
Petersburg as inherently connected to German, rather than Russian, tradition. As he writes in “Петербургские записки 1836 года,”(“Petersburg Notes from 1836”) Moscow is a “русская борода”, but Saint Petersburg is an “уже аккуратный немец.”23 While the organization of the home initially seems to contrast with the chaos of the city streets and the artist's studio, it does reflect the rigid lines and rectilinear pattern of Petersburg's streets, inspired by Peter the Great's visits to Germanic cities, particularly Amsterdam.
The detailed description of Schiller’s home, in contrast to the brief survey of Psikarev’s apartment/studio implies the importance of the Germanic style in Saint Petersburg. Thus,
Gogol uses Schiller's home to reflect the reality of this character's self, as well as further his own definition of Saint Petersburg as a German city.
The idea of a home as reflecting the identity of its residents and revealing certain truths or reality in “Невский Проспект” proves most dramatic in the case of the bewitchingly beautiful prostitute. When Piskaryov dashes after her and follows her home, he realizes the ugly truth of her occupation only upon entering the house. The unkempt and undecorated apartment contrasts sharply with the order of Schiller's home and reflects the absence of loving care put into a family home:
Какой-то неприятный беспорядок, который можно встретить только в беспеченой комнате холостяка, царствовал во всем. Мебели довольно хорошие были покрыты пылью; паук застилал своею паутиною лепной карниз; сквозь непритворенную дверь другой комнаты блестел сапог со
“the master of the house was a German.” Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Nevsky Prospect,” 27. 23 Гоголь, Николай, “Петербургские записки 1836 года”, Полное собрание сочинений, том восьмой (Ленинград:Издательство академии наук СССР, 1952) 177. “Moscow is a Russian beard, but Saint Petersburg is a precise German”. Translation mine. The description of Moscow as a Russian beard refers to the long beards worn by Russian Orthodox men, which Peter the Great forced them to cut off.
32 шпорной и краснела выпушка мундира; громкий мужской голос и женский смех раздавались без всякого принуждения. Боже, куда зашел он! Сначала он не хотел верить и начал пристальнее всматриваться в предметы, наполнявшие комнату; но голые стены и окна без занавес не показывали никакого присутсвия заботливой хозяйки; изношенные лица этих жалких созданий, из которых одна села почти перед его носом и так же спокойно его рассматривала, как пятно на чужом платье, - все это уверило его, что он зашел в тот отвратительный приют, где основал свое жилище жалкий разврат, порожденный мишурною образованностию и страшным многолюдством столицы.24
This poorly kept house, while described as a residential space, does not serve as a home, but rather functions more as a workshop. Gogol emphasizes the portrayal of the apartment as a non-home, describing the disorganization as that “в беспеченой комнате
холостяка” and revealing “никакого присутсвия заботливой хозяйки.” The disheveled space implicate the prostitutes as impure for their inability to create a home and recalling
Piskaryov’s own messy apartment, scattered with art supplied and functioning more as a workshop than a home. Indeed, the tangled mess of items the narrator associates with an artist's apartment fills the prostitutes’ apartment, thus furthering the notion of the whorehouse as a workshop. Their work, in a perverse sense, may be considered creative, just like Piskaryov's self-deceiving fantasies.
These homes and workshops not only represent characters, but also symbolize the city. The various homes and workshops in “Невский Проспект” each reflect a different element of Gogol's Petersburg. Piskaryov's apartment connotes the city that arose in the
24 Гоголь, “Невский Проспект”, 362. “Everywhere he saw the sort of unpleasant disorder you might find in the untidy room of a bachelor. The furniture, of fairly food quality, was covered in dust; a spider had spread its web over the moulded cornice; through the open door of an adjacent room could be seen a gleaming boot and spur and the red piping of a uniform; a loud male voice and female laughter rang out without the slightest inhibition. Good God, where was he? At first he would not believe his eyes and he set about carefully studying the objects with which the room was filled: the bare walls and curtainless windows, however, displayed a lack of any housewifely care and the haggard faces of these wretched creatures, one of whom had plumped herself down in front of his nose and was quite calmly examining him as if he were a stain on another woman’s dress, finally convinced him that he had strayed into one of those repulsive dens of iniquity, of that vice engendered and nourished by the tawdry sophistication and terrible overcrowding of the capital”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “Nevsky Prospect,” 13.
33 fantasy of Peter the Great; Schiller's apartment recalls the Germanic roots in the creation of the city; and finally, the whorehouse, where the beautiful and coarse prostitute resides, implies that a beautiful surface covers an ugly truth. Gogol creates an overwhelming impression of a city that deceives all in terms of its beautiful architecture and
Russianness. This deceit leaves behind a huge void in the identity of the city and in the lives of Gogol's characters.
This void comes across most clearly in the next short story, “Шинель.” In this tale, the apartment of Akaky Akakievich, the tale's main character, is missing a description. This absence of portrayal reflects his distance from the rest of the world and sets up the predominant theme of negativity in the story. The narrator makes it clear that
Akaky Akakievich lives in an apartment, referring to the space in descriptions of Akaky
Akakievich returning home and copying documents after dinner and again when he lies dying in bed. The lack of a specific description suggests that his home exists as an extension of his workplace, rather than a personal space for Akaky Akaievich. This absence of identity, as well as a lack of home, foreshadows the conclusion of the tale, when the ghost of the vengeful copy clerk haunts Saint Petersburg and wanders forever around the city, gradually drifting away into nonexistence.
While the lack of description for Akaky Akakievich's home suggests he is unanchored in the surrounding world, the vivid description of the tailor Petrovich's workshop suggests the tailor and his apartment represent the intangible atmosphere of
Saint Petersburg. The name of Petrovich carries Peter or Петр as its root, much like the city name Санкт-Петербург, thus pointing to a connection between the artist and the city founder. The narrator implies the powerful role of Petrovich, as Akaky visits the
34 tailor’s apartment for the first time and is overwhelmed by unpleasant cooking smells and the stench of stagnant water on the stairs outside the apartment:
Взбираясь по лестнице, ведший к Петровичу, которая, надобно отдать справедливость, была вся умащена водой, помоями и проникнута насквозь тем спиртуозным запахом, который ест глаза и, как известно, присутсвует неотлучно на всех черных лестницах петербургских домов, - взбираясь по лестнице, Акакий Акакиевич уже подумывал о том, сколько запросит Петрович, и мысленно положил не давать больше двух рублей. Дверь была отворена, потому что хозяйка, готовя какую-то рыбу, напустила столько дыму в кухне , что нельзя было видеть даже и самых тараканов. Акакий Акакиевич прошел через кухню, не замеченный самый хозяйкою, и вступил наконец в комнату, где увидел Петровича, сидевшего на широком деревянном некрашеном столе и подвернувшего под себя ноги свои, как турецкий паша.25
Just as all the filthy aspects of the apartment represent the typical smells and living standards of St. Petersburg, Petrovich himself embodies the mystery and ambiguity that is the essence of Gogolian Petersburg. The description of the apartment conveys his contradictory role in the story, shrouding him in the smoke from his wife’s cooking and unveiling him as a mysterious foreign presence, a Turkish pasha. Even this reference to the Turkish pasha carries mixed connotations, as the Russians eventually defeated Turkey in the early nineteenth century, thus diminishing its strength in Southeast Europe.
However, after Gogol’s death, the Turks defeated Russia in the Crimean War from 1854-
1856.26
25 Гоголь, “Шинель”, 477. “As he ascended the staircse leading to Petrovich’s shop, a staircase which, to be perfectly truthful, was thoroughly steeped in dishwater and slops, and everywhere gave off that acrid smell which so stings the eyes and which, as the reader will know, is an inescapable adjunct of all back staircases in St. Petersburg – as he ascended the staircase Akaky Akakievich was already speculating how much Petrovich would ask and had inwardly resolved to pay no more than two roubles. The door was open, because the tailor’s wife had been cooking some fish or other and in the process had produced so much smoke in the kitchen that even the cockroaches could no longer be seen. Akaky Akakievich walked through the kitchen, unobserved by the tailor’s wife, and finally made his way into the workroom, where he saw Petrovich sitting on a big unpainted wooden table with his feet tucked beneath him like a Turkish pasha”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat”, 122. 26 Riasonovsky, Nicholas, V., A History of Russia, 5th ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993) 330.
35 As the designer of the overcoat that transforms and ends Akaky Akakievich’s life,
Petrovich is both a creator and destroyer. The overcoat initially seems to improve Akaky
Akakievich’s standard of living, protecting him from the cruel winter wind on the streets.
However, this creation also implicates Petrovich in the theme of negativity in the tale, as the tailor’s fine craftsmanship leads to the theft of the overcoat and thereby, the loss of
Akaky’s life. This ambiguity connects to the theme throughout Gogol's writings on
Petersburg, in which creation and destruction go hand in hand. Even though the interior space of a home or workshop initially appears separate or protected from the deception of the streets, the artistic designs, whether in the form of an overcoat or a dream, convey the same artifice as the atmosphere on the streets.
The superficiality of the coat’s role in improving his life dominates the scene at a party held in honor of Akaky's colleague and Akaky's new coat. This invitation into an his colleagues’ social circle, which previously ridiculed Akaky, and the single luxurious dwelling in “Шинель” occurs only as a result of the fine quality of the overcoat, indicating the influential power of possessions and the materialistic culture of the city.
The narrative underscores the materialism of Saint Petersburg culture as Akaky enters the party and is greeted by elegant coats and pairs of galoshes, rather than party guests:
Помощник столоначальника жил на большую ногу: на лестнице светил фонарь, квартира была на втором этаже. Вошедши в переднюю, Акакий Акакиевич увидел на полу целые ряды калош. Между ними, посреди комнаты, стоял самовар, шумя и испуская клубами пар. На стенах висели всё шинели да плащи, между которыми некоторые были даже с бобровыми воротниками или с бархатными отворотами…Акакий Акакиевич, повесивши сам шинель свою, вошел в комнату, и перед ним мелькнули в одно время свечи, чиновники, трубки, столы для карт, и смутно поразили слух его беглый, со всех сторон подымавшийся разговор и шум передвигаемых сульев. Он остановился весьма неловко среди комнаты, ища и стараясь придумать, что ему сделать.27
27 Гоголь, “Шинель,” 487.
36 The coats and raincoats, decorated with beaver collars and velvet lapels, serve as a metonymic metaphor for the party guests, thus suggesting that possessions define the partygoers. Even as Akaky moves pasts the coat rack in the entry, he continues to observe symbols of festivity and friendship, rather than the actual people. The lights and candles, as well as the smell of pipes and sound of merry laughter create a merry atmosphere. However, this intangible atmosphere parallels the mood on the streets in
“Невский Проспект”: the impressions that one gains on the city streets often deceive and should not be trusted. Similarly, here, a celebratory party does not equal genuine pleasure and merriment, but reveals the artificiality of friendships built around material goods. For this reason, Akaky enters the party and stands there helplessly, uncertain of how to behave. He is a stranger both to social pretense and to genuine friendship and therefore, finds himself at a loss as to how he should behave.
Using possessions to acquire status and power appears as a theme throughout all of Gogol's Петербургские повести. In “Шинель,” Petrovich's creation, the overcoat, wields this power. Artwork carries similar properties in “Портрет,” (“The Portrait”). In this tale, the demonic portrait influences Chartkov to use his own talent to effect a change in lifestyle, symbolized by the dramatic difference in his two apartments. His first apartment, which is sparsely furnished and poorly maintained, recalls the disorganized
Petersburg workshop portrayed in “Невский Проспект.” Like Piskaryov's workshop,
“The assistant desk head lived in style: a lamp burned on the staircase, leading to the second-floor apartment. On entering the hall Akaky Akakievich saw rows of galoshes on the floor. In their midst, in the middle of the room, stood a samovar, which hissed and emitted puffs of steam. Hanging on the walls was a great mass of overcoats and cloaks, some of which were even fitted with beaver collars or velvet lapels…After hanging up his coat himself, Akaky Akakievich entered the room and was dazzled by the array of candles, officials, pipes, and card-tables, while his ears rang with the confused clamour of voices conversing on all sides and the noise of chairs being shifted. He stood in the center of the room feeling quite at a loss, gazing around and trying to work out what he should do”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Overcoat,” 131-132.
37 disorder characterizes the interior, which is filled with “всяким художеским хламом:
кусками гипсовых рук, рамками, обтянутыми холстом, эскизами, начатыми и
брошенными, драпировкой, развешанной по стульям.”28 The apartment's state of disrepair, echoed by Chartkov's worn out clothing, reflects the artist's tendency to ignore the reality surrounding him, due to his focus on creating a mythical world: just as he is so dedicated to his work that he has no time to attend to outward appearances, the temperature in his apartment is exceedingly low, since cold “всегда бывает у
художников, чего, впрочем, они не замечают.”29 While the apartment does not embody the notion of ideal living quarters, it is a perfect model of the artists studio, characterized by a disorganized spread of tools and art and focused on the creative process, indicated by his indifference to the cold and disinterest in his own outward appearance.
After discovering money hidden in the frame of the portrait with the mysterious and demonic eyes, Chartkov moves from his decrepit apartment on the outskirts of town, on Vasilyevsky Island to a lavish and extravagantly furnished one in the city center.
These different apartments reflect not only a change in his financial status, but in his personality. Indicative of this transition is Chartkov’s sudden focus on a world of mere appearances, as he dresses in fine clothing, dines out, and attends parties. His studio loses its previous chaotic state that is typical of St. Petersburg workshops, as Chartkov
“Дома у себя, в мастерской он завел опрятность и чистоту в высшей степени.”30
28 Гоголь, “Портрет,” 418. “all sorts of artist’s rubbish: sections of plaster arms, canvases stretching on frames, sketches begun and abandoned, sheets of cloth draped over the chairs”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Portrait,” 66. 29 Гоголь, “Портрет,” 418. “like every artist’s home, was unbearably cold, since cold is something to which artists are quite oblivious”. Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Portrait,” 66. 30 Гоголь, “Портрет,” 441.
38 The transition to an organized studio and emphasis on material surroundings contrasts with the previous space of his apartment, and reflects a change in mentality and creativity. Whereas his previous artwork, created in a state of poverty, revealed talent, the portraits painted in his lavish apartment in the center reflect his current focus on materiality and surface appearances, and their creation for the purpose of receiving monetary payment result in the eventual disappearance of his once promising talent.
Chartkov's move to high society and loss of artistic focus carries geographical symbolism: the shift from periphery to center in terms of space gives way to a transition from center to periphery in terms of talent. This tale also connects material goods and power to the demonic atmosphere of Saint Petersburg, as Chartkov acquires wealth and prestige under the influence of the demonic portrait.
The issue of hierarchies, and the connection of upper-ranked individuals to wealth and artifice, as suggested in “Портрет,” exists prominently in “Нос.” The brief scene in
Kazan Cathedral encapsulates this theme. In “Нос,” as Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov is walking around town, he spots his wayward body part climbing into a carriage and wearing a uniform and the hat of a State Councilor, a position higher than his own. He follows his nose into the Kazan Cathedral, on Nevsky Prospect. As he approaches the church, beggars stand outside, attempting to take advantage of the wealth of the church- goers, as well as their impulse to perform good deeds, perhaps by giving money to someone in need. To enter into the church, he must break through a barricade of old women: “Он поспешил в собор, пробрался сквозь ряд нищих старух с завязанными
лицами и двумя отверстиями для глаз, над которыми он прежде так смеялся, и вошел
“At home, in his studio, he carried cleaniless and order to the extreme.” Translation Christopher English. Gogol, “The Portrait,” 89.
39 в церковь.”31 A higher class of people populates the inside of the church, including the nose, as well as an elderly lady and a young woman, accompanied by their footman. The positioning of the beggar women in the exterior part of the church, and the wealthier people inside the church suggests an affiliation between those who are financially well- off and the church, thus emphasizing the system of hierarchies in Saint Petersburg.
In this scene, the division between interior and exterior space divides the wealthy from the beggars. These divisions in status occur in several of Gogol's Петербургские
повести. In “Шинель,” Akaky Akakievich's colleagues reject him prior to the purchase of his overcoat and after the theft of his overcoat, the nameless significant personage refuses to assist Akaky in locating the thieves. Only in death, does Akaky avenge the theft of his coat and the indifference of the Saint Petersburg bureaucrat, by stealing, most appropriately, the coat of the significant personage. In “Портрет,” Gogol suggests that the desire for wealth and the accompanying increase in status results in a lack of thought, creativity in talent. While Chartkov achieves a high level of success in terms of status, he loses the level of artistry found in those who remain focused on their work. In “Нос,”
Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov must endure his nose gaining independence from his body and achieving a higher governmental rank. In all these cases, Gogol seeks to mock those with status and wealth and reveal them as artificial and insincere.
The evidence of insincerity and perhaps a spiritual emptiness appears in the form of physical emptiness. The lack of reality in “Невский Проспект” as Piskaryov and
Pirogov struggle with romantic relationships proves the least tangible of absences in
31 Гоголь, “Нос,” 393. “He hastened into the cathedral, pushed his way through the row of olf beggarwomen with their faces swathed in rags, leaving only two slits for the eyes, a sight which before had always caused him mirth, and entered the church.” Translated Christopher English. Gogol, “The Nose,” 42.
40 Gogol. In “Шинель,” Akaky Akakievich's old overcoat gradually fades into nonexistence, with the collar diminishing in size every year, while his new overcoat vanishes due to theft. At the end of the story, even Akaky Akakievich himself has faded from existence into the realm of the nonliving. The most obvious disappearance occurs in “Нос,” when Major Kovalyov awakes to find his nose missing from his face. These voids in the Petersburg Tales indicate an emptiness that Gogol saw in the emphasis on social status and the lifestyle of Petersburg itself.32
The symbolic voids and social hierarchies in Gogol’s prose appear in the physical space of St. Petersburg, seen in the architectural trends in the early nineteenth century.
The construction of urban spaces in the 1820s and 1830s emphasized vast open spaces and elegant buildings reminiscent of classical Rome. This tendency reflects the themes that Gogol depended upon in his Петербургские повести, such as the contrast between absence and presence, and the foreign influence on Saint Petersburg. From approximately
1811 to 1849, Carlo Rossi, Vasilii Stasov and Auguste Montferrand, each of a different nationality - Italian, Russian, and French, respectively - dominated the design and construction of buildings, squares, and monuments in Saint Petersburg, including the
Winter Palace Square, the Alexander Column (located in the center of the Winter Palace
Square) and the Preobrazhensky and Troitskij Cathedrals. Their designs resulted in a careful balance of open and filled spaces.
Yuri Kaganov, in Images of Space, comments on the planning of urban space in
St. Petersburg. He suggests that open spaces, as much as, if not more than, the architecture, have defined St. Petersburg since its creation:
32 For more details on voids in Gogol’s writing, see the collection of essays Gogol: Exploring Absence: Negativity in 19th century Russian Literature, Spieker, Sven, ed., (Bloomington, IN: Slavica, 1999).
41 Empty Petersburg space and not the architecture, remains the major hero of this visual subject, quite popular in its time. The architecture merely forms the delicate garb of emptiness, communicating to it the look and dignity of space. In this, the primordial nature of Petersburg let itself be known, having presented itself from its very beginning as a robing of emptiness.33
Thus, the architecture, while a significant element of the city itself, performs another function of setting off the emptiness of St. Petersburg space.
The construction of many of the buildings in St. Petersburg, under the rule of
Nicholas I from 1825 to 1855, may be seen as a “robing of emptiness” from Kaganov’s perspective or “re-creating Rome in St. Petersburg,” as Richard S. Wortman suggests in
Scenarios of Power: Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy.34 The architectural developments, such as triumphal arches and triumphal columns, as well as government buildings throughout the city, imbued a sense of imperial order and power that recalled
Rome. Nicholas I’s collection of artwork in his study reiterates these themes of classical aesthetics, displaying his preference for order in the symmetrical lines of soldiers marching in parades and following the emperor’s command. The neo-classical design of
Petersburg architecture reflected the Emperor’s personal tastes, but also conveyed the elegance and strict adherence to order of his regime.35
The rectilinear lines of St. Petersburg city plan, influenced by Dutch cities, correlated with Nicholas’s inclination towards clean lines. In keeping with this theme, architects designed multiple squares along Nevsky Prospect, including Palace Square and
Anichkov Square, which related well to the already angular design and emphasized the
33 Kaganov, Grigorii, Images of Space: St. Petersburg in the Visual and Verbal Arts, trans. Sidney Monas (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1997) 59. 34 Wortman, Richard S., Scen arios of Power: Myth and Ceremony in Russian Monarchy, Vol. I (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995) 311. 35 Wortman, 310-312.
42 vast expanse of the city. As Yuri Egorov notes in his essay “The Building of Petersburg,”
“This enormous set of squares, which had no precedent in European architecture, were viewed and were created as a single artistic organ.”36 These squares should not be considered within the limits of their own space, Egorov suggests, as rows of streets of canals connect them to each other, creating the spaciousness for which St. Petersburg is known.37
The Italian born architect Carlo Rossi (1775-1849) proved particularly gifted at the “robing of emptiness” in St. Petersburg, designing several prominent features that embodied the trend towards spaciousness and elegance. His most notable creations include the Winter Palace Square and General Staff Arch. Rossi transformed the area surrounding the Winter Palace by redefining and elaborating the border of this square.
He removed the existing private mansions along the southwest edge of Palace Square and replaced them with the Ministry of International Affairs and an extension of Main Staff
Headquarters. The General Staff Arch, which connects these two buildings, reveals the neo-classical style typical of this period, combining columns with traditional Russian military symbols, and demonstrates Nicholas I’s preferred theme of military power. The result that Rossi and Nicholas I agreed upon consisted of a grouping of Old Russian weapons and armor flanking the base of the arch, topped by five meter high figures from
Old Russian battles. On the top of the arch stand six horses harnessed to a chariot of
Glory.38
36 “Этот огромный комплекс площадей не имеющий прецедентов в европейцком зодчестве, рассматривался и создавался как единый художественный организм”. Егоров, Юрий. “Застройка Петербурга.” История Русского искусства, VIII, книга первая. Москва: Издательство Академии Наук СССР, 1963, 54. 37 Егоров, 60. 38 Овсянников, Юрий. Три века Санкт-Петербурга: История-Культура-Быт (Москва: Галарт, 1997) 150-152.
43 These elaborate decorations along the edge of Palace Square created a sharp division between the vast open area and the compressed buildings, crowds of people and restricted movement on Nevsky Prospect that lay just beyond the arch. The exit from
Palace Square leading to Nevsky Prospect actually consisted of a narrow side street that did not convey the elegance and spaciousness characteristic of Palace Square. Therefore, to emphasize the exit, Rossi placed a second arch behind the General Staff arch, in order to create a sense of depth and balance the massive statues on the primary arch. This visual trick is a robing of emptiness of sorts, inducing a viewer to see a grander structure than what actually exists.39
Having defined the border and exit from Palace Square, Nicholas I then turned to the interior expanse of the square. He called upon Frenchman Auguste Montferrand
(1786-1858) to construct the Alexander Column (1834), designed originally by Rossi.
For the base, Benedict Skotti made four huge bas-reliefs. On the Winter Palace side are the rivers Neman and Vistula, symbolic in the sense that Napoleon’s forces were pushed behind these rivers in 1812. On the other three sides are the figures Victory and Peace,
Justice and Mercy, Wisdom and Abundance. While this project strove to decorate an empty space, the single column in a huge square emphasizes the surrounding emptiness, making the area appear only larger.
The contrast between absence and presence appeared in another one of Rossi's projects included making use of squares to emphasize the buildings, contrasting the square's emptiness with the presence of several buildings. Between 1820-1830, Rossi developed the square between Anichkov Palace and the Public Library. From the north,
39 Гримм, Г.Г., Ильин, М.А.,и Егоров, Ю.А. “К.И. Росси”. История Русского искусства, VIII, книга первая. (Москва: Издательство Академии Наук СССР, 1963) 146.
44 the square meets Nevsky Prospect, from the east, there are two pavilions for Anichkov
Palace. The Public Library, designed by Rossi, borders the west side of the square and along the south side is a garden with a theater standing behind it. In this case, there is no division between the square and Nevsky Prospect, as the square flows into the street.40
Even the buildings themselves are part of the decoration of Nevksy Prospect, unlike the
Winter Palace, whose prestige required separation. The lack of boundaries, however, has a somewhat similar result to the differentiation between the archway and Palace square. The fluid borders of Anichkov Square emphasize the sharp contrast between the space of the simplicity of the square, the business of Nevsky Prospect and the elegant theater, Public Library, and Anichkov Palace. The juxtaposition of wealth and emptiness in the architectural designs in the center of town, as seen in Palace and Anichkov
Squares, provides a spatial equivalent for this theme in Gogol's tales, particularly "The
Portrait", when Chartkov's desire to earn fame and prestige causes him to move to the center of town, empties him of talent.
While Rossi's work centered around the architectural projects that created empty spaces to show off wealth, the design of two prominent Cathedrals, Kazan Cathedral
(1801-1811) and the redesign of St. Isaac’s Cathedral (1818-1858) demonstrate an opposite architectural approach as architects emphasized size. Kazan Cathedral, facing
Nevsky Prospekt, incorporates Neo-Classical and Baroque architectural styles that were typical for Saint Petersburg at the time, as an array of columns adorns a massive and severe structure. The architect, Andrei Nikoforovich Voronikhin (1760 – 1814), was born a serf, but educated as the companion of his master’s son in Paris and Rome.
40 Овсянников, 150-152.
45 Inspired by St. Peter’s in Rome, but much smaller than the Italian cathedral, the original plans consisted of three semicircular colonnades: along the north and south entrances, as well as along the Western façade. However, the builders completed only the northern colonnade. As a result, the view from Nevsky Prospect deceives observers as the transept and dome in the center of the semicircle facing the street seem to lead to the primary entrance. 41 Interestingly, the history of Kazan Cathedral, the only church mentioned in
Gogol’s Petersburg Tales, calls to mind several of the recurring themes of deception and hierarchies in these stories. The misleading perspective from Nevsky Prospect parallels the manipulative atmosphere of the city’s main thoroughfare, where the devil himself lights the streetlamps in Gogol’s “Невский Проспект.” Similarly, the story of a serf becoming a highly regarded architect mimics Chartkov’s rise to prestige in “Портрет” and even the struggle between Major Kovalyov with his own nose over rank in “Нос.”
St. Isaac’s Cathedral, another mammoth structure located at one end of Nevsky
Prospect, carries a similarly complex creation history. Antonio Rinaldi, a favorite architect of Catherine the Great, originally designed and initiated construction of St.
Isaac’s Cathedral. Upon Paul’s I accession, construction ceased and later, Vincenzo
Brenna hastily finished the project.42 In 1818, Alexander I selected Montferrand’s redesign of St. Isaac’s in a contest. For inspiration on this project, Montferrand turned to
Vasilii Stasov's Transfiguration to attempt a classical design of an Orthodox church.
However, he could not create a connection between the large central dome, reminiscent of the Pantheon and St. Paul's, both in Rome, to the smaller lanterns with cupolas sitting atop the four corners of the roofline. Similar to Kazan, the finished version of St. Isaac’s
41 Hamilton, George Heard, The Art and Architecture of Russia, 2nd ed. (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1975) 318-319. 42 Hamilton, 295 and 314-315.
46 Cathedral was substantially smaller than originally intended, but nonetheless quite enormous. Budget cuts forced the architect, Montferrand, to eliminate certain parts of the structure and downsize others. In the end, St. Isaac's Cathedral is impressive because of its sheer size, rather than because of design.43 The massive size of the cathedral represents the movement away from architecturally open space in Saint Petersburg and the need to occupy space and assign it meaning.
It is precisely the trend towards constructing massive rather than artistic structures that Gogol criticizes in his 1836 essay “Об архитектуре нынешнего время” (“On
Contemporary Architecture.”)44 In this essay, Gogol speaks out in favor of the traditional
“city on a hill” with spires and cupolas soaring high into the heavens, as if reaching for
God. This height is necessary particularly for a capital city, so that it can stand out from the surrounding area, as well as easily look out upon the rest of the land. The issue of duality comes into play, as the architecture should reach toward the heavens and at the same time, provide a lively habitat for people. In contrast with the extensive empty space and absences of the cityscape in his Петербургские повести and the artwork and architecture of the first half of the nineteenth century, a city should be filled with signs of life. In Gogol's words: “строение всегда лучше, если стоит на тесной площади. К
нему может идти улица, показывающая его в перспективе, издали, но оно должно
иметь поражающее величие вблизи. Чтобы дороги проходили мимо его!”45 Although writing specifically about the architecture, Gogol begins to take issue with the city of St.
43 Hamilton, 332-333. 44 This essay was published in his collection Арабески in 1836. 45 Гоголь, Николай, “Об архитектуре нынешнего время”, Полное соцрание сочинение, том восьмой (Ленинград:Издательство академии наук СССР, 1956) 62. “A structure is always better if it is located on a crowded square. Streets can lead up to it, placing it in perspective from a distance. However, the structure should also have striking greatness from close by, so that streets will pass by it!” Translation mine.
47 Petersburg itself. As he criticizes the city by arguing in favor of a dense and crowded urban design, he continues by addressing the physical location of the city. He expresses his dislike of Saint Petersburg's eccentric positioning in the middle of swamp by writing about the benefits of a city located on a hill, rather than those on a flat land. Cities on a hill, he argues, naturally stand out as capitals and carry a natural artistic quality. Cities on flat land, however, depend entirely upon the architecture for beauty, which makes the clumsy and massive size of contemporary architecture all the more despicable from his point of view. Because of the architecture, Gogol believes Saint Petersburg is doomed to mediocrity.
In Gogol's essay “Петербургские записки 1836 года,” which I have already mentioned, he foreshadows Lotman's topos of Petersburg as a city located on the geographical edge of the Russian Empire, writing “В самом деле, куда забросило
русскую столицу - на край света.”46 Gogol goes on to imply that Petersburg is not the center of the Russian nation, or even representative in his often quoted statement:
“Москва нужна России, для Петербурга нужна Россия.”47 Thus, the tension between interior and exterior space within the city limits of Gogol's St. Petersburg expands into the lack of correspondence between city and nation as described by Lotman. Returning to the basic structure of the semiosphere, with binary oppositions of interior and exterior or center and periphery separated by a boundary that is characterized by extreme diversity, the Russian Window to the West can certainly be considered as serving the function of a liminal space between Russia and Europe. However, it is also possible to
46 Гоголь, “Петербургские записки 1836 года,” 177. “In reality, where did they locate the Russian capital – on the edge of the world.” Translation mine. 47 Гоголь, “Петербургские записки 1836 года,” 177. “Russia needs Moscow, but St. Petersburg needs Russia.” Translation mine.
48 see Saint Petersburg not only as a boundary between Empires, but as part of the Russian
Empire semiosphere, which as Lotman suggests is characterized by heterogeneity and asymmetry upon closer examination and appears as a unified and coherent structure only from a distance. The Russian scholar N.P. Antsiferov refers to St. Petersburg as a dual city, and indeed, in St. Petersburg's capacity of both capital and borderland, its duality, diversity and eccentricity become most apparent.48
48 For a detailed discussion of the dualities underlying the identity of Saint Petersburg, see Antsiferov’s essay “Непостижимый город...,” Непостижимый город... (Ленинград:Лениздат, 1991).
49 Prague, 1858 Perry-Casteñeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas Libraries
50 Chapter Two Caught in the Middle: Interior and Exterior Space in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské
Prague, or “Magic Prague,” the capital of the Holy Roman Empire from approximately 1355 to 1400, embodies the paradigm of a typical, naturally evolving city. The Hradcany castle sits high upon a hill, its height indicating its prestige and at the same time providing a vantage point for viewing the surrounding area and anticipating possible attacks. Closer examination, however, differentiates Prague from the typical city and connects it to so-called eccentric cities, such as St. Petersburg, as described by Yuri Lotman in Universe of the Mind. While Prague is geographically central to Bohemia and the rest of Europe, nineteenth century Prague had been pushed to the cultural and political edge of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in which it was located. Jan Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, (Prague Tales) a collection of short stories published in 1878, were written at a time when Prague was caught between two worlds, as it was a secondary city within the Austro-Hungarian Empire, yet too culturally diverse to embody the Czech nation. Neruda acknowledges this tension inherent to Prague, but at the same time emphasizes the Czechness of this city. Drawing on Lotman’s concept of eccentric cities, this chapter will focus on Neruda’s use of interior and exterior urban space to portray Prague as central to the Czech nation but peripheral to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The eccentricity of Prague does not lie in its geographical positioning, but rather in its cultural and political divisions. Late nineteenth century Prague was far removed from its imperial status during the Holy Roman Empire and had declined to a secondary, almost provincial city. The city, located in the center of Bohemia and, on a larger scale, in the center of Europe, regained cultural significance during the Czech National Revival in the early nineteenth century. For these reasons, Czech popular imagination and
51 national literature, such as the poetry of Karel Mácha and Karel Erben, and music, for example Bedřich Smetana‘s Má vlast, (My Fatherland) associated Czechness more with the physical and idealized space of the countryside, rather than any urban center.1 As contemporary Czech writer Ivan Klima notes in the introduction to the English translation of Jan Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, Neruda was one of the first writers to associate Prague with Czechness.2 Neruda emphasizes the Czechness of Prague by focusing specifically on the Czech population, their pubs and their homes, while only occasionally referencing other nationalities, such as the Germans. Interestingly, his short stories are located in Malá Strana, or Minor Town, an area known for its Germanic influence. By representing solely Czechs in an actually diverse area, Neruda’s prose symbolically reclaims Prague for his countrymen. The representation of Prague as a predominantly Czech community belies the city’s remarkable cultural diversity. As Angelo Rippellino suggests, the true magic of Prague lies in its unique combination of cultures. Also known as the “city of three peoples,” Czechs, Germans and Jews all consider Prague home. In 1851, 150,000 residents called Prague home. 41% of these people claimed German as their native language. In the beginning of the twentieth century, however, nearly 450,000 people resided in Prague. 92% of these people were Czech speaking and 7.5% or 33,000 of them were German speaking. 25,000 of those counted in the German group represent the Jewish population.3 Italians also contributed to the cultural diversity of Prague. The street Vlasska, which refers to Latin speaking foreignors, located in Malá Strana marks the presence of a formal Italian community in that part of the city from the mid-sixteenth
1 Sayer, Derek. The Coasts of Bohemia, pp. 53-153. Sayer provides an excellent and detailed discussion of the roots and evolution of Czech national identity in the nineteenth century. 2 Klima, Ivan. Prague Tales. Jan Neruda. Trans. Michael Henry Heim. New York: Central European Press, 1993. 3 Ripellino, Angelo Maria. Magic Prague. Trans. David Newton Marinelli, ed. Michael Henry Heim. London: Picador, 1995.
52 century (if not earlier) to the late nineteenth century.4 Rippellino writes that while this coexistence was not idyllic, the tensions and intermingling between these cultures allowed for the incredible diversity of resources and motivations that defined the unique character of Prague. This intermingling defined the overall identity of the city, yet clear divisions along national lines marked the its space. Czechs and Germans had their own clubs, restaurants, universities and even theaters - the Narodní divadlo for the Czechs was built in 1881, while the Deutsches Landestheater, inaugurated in 1885 and Neues Deutsches Theater opened in 1888, were attended by the
German population.5 Universities associated exclusively with Czechs or Germans and did not interact in any way. While the Jews lived in a vacuum, separate from both Czechs and Germans, they identified mostly with the Germans, as indicated by their support of the Habsburgs and tedency to speak German rather than Hebrew or Yiddish by the end of the nineteenth century. However, Prague Jews depended on neither Czechs nor Germans for literature, as they developed their own unique literary traditions.6 In Povídky malostranské Neruda plays to the national divisions of space typical for his time, ignoring the cultural diversity of Prague and focusing on limited, clearly demarcated spaces, such as pubs and tenement homes, that are inhabited exclusively by Czechs. Both the tenement homes and the pubs can be considered in terms of Lotman’s semiosphere, as they consist of a diverse mix of people, unified by the boundaries of the building and separated from the outside world. In the case of the tenement homes, the building represents a microcosm of an entire city, as it comprises several individual units - the apartments - that are bound together by the exterior walls, just as a city’s limits encompass a diverse mix of peoples and spaces. Just as the boundaries surrounding a given space bind together the various elements and create harmony among them, the
4An Italian Street in Prague. Ed. Roberto Piperno. 2005. 17 March 2004.
53 enclosure of the walls unifies all the residents of a given building, forcing them to interact and develop a sense of community. While the exterior walls of the building have a unifying effect, this comes at the price of the various walls and doors within the home, as characters typically sacrifice individual privacy to belong to the larger community. The lack of privacy and emphasis on community in the living spaces of Malá Strana parallels Ripellino’s description of the sometimes uneasy, but mandatory, coexistance of cultures within Prague. Similarly, as Lotman suggests in his discussion of the semiosphere, heterogeneity characterizes a space, such as a city, although the boundaries cause it to appear whole and unified from a distance. In the case of the Malá Strana neighborhood, the residents of an apartment building appear a peaceful and friendly group from a distance, but closer examination reveals disagreements and tension among members. While the close living quarters create an opportunity for intimate knowledge of one’s neighbors, the lack of privacy creates tension just as easily as a close relationship.
In both “Týden v tichém domě” (“A Week in a Quiet House”) and in “Figurky,” (“Figures”) the first and last stories in Povídky malostranské, dealing with this lack of privacy occupies a large part of each individual’s daily activities. “Týden v tichém domě” opens with a bird’s eye view of one sleeping family, the overlapping sounds of their breathing demonstrating the fluid boundaries of space within a home: “Dýchání se všelijak proplítá, zcela se neshodne ani jednou, někdy jako by jedno usínalo, kdežto druhé se zesiluje, jedno jako by se s kývadlem hodin zakoktávalo, kdežto druhé sobě přispišuje.”7 Just as the breaths never completely merge together into one sound, they also never cease competing with each other. On a larger scale this incongruency parallels the mixed cultures of Prague that never quite learn to coexist, while on a smaller scale it
7 Neruda, Jan. Povídky malostranské. (Praha: Československý spisovatel, 1987) 12. “The sounds of their breathing intermingle, never quite falling together, one dying down while the other grows in intensity, one faltering like the pendulum of the clock while the other wheezes on”. Translation Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “A Week in a Quiet House,” 2.
54 mimics the struggle for privacy within the family of the tenement home. The snoring mother awakes and her restless stirring in the bed consequently wakens her husband. The couple’s conversation, in turn, awakens their adult son sleeping behind the partition. They argue briefly and finally return to sleep. The pattern reveals that despite the parents’ and grown child’s attempt to live separately, as indicated by the screen between their sleeping space, the boundary of the apartment and building walls forces shared experiences upon them. The lack of boundaries between this family sets the tone for the interaction between another family in the same house, the Lakmuses, and their subtenant Doctor Loukota. When Mrs. Lakmus gets the idea in her head that her daughter Klara will make an excellent match for the middle-aged Doctor, she violates the Doctor’s emotional and physical boundaries by marching into his room unannounced and all but ordering the very confused doctor to marry her daughter. In the end, Dr. Loukouta ends up agreeing to marry Klara, as he becomes simply too beaten down to protest. On one hand, this marriage is simply the Doctor giving in to an extremely persistent woman. On the other hand, however, this act represents a very literal merging of lives within the home. The Doctor will no longer be a subtenant who is treated like family, he will actually be family, thus strengthening the communal bonds in a tenement home. This idea of community lies at the heart not only of “Týden v tichém domě,” but in all of Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, indicating that from the author’s perspective, personal relationships, rather than inhabited spaces, define one’s urban experience. By way of demonstrating this point of view, Neruda’s writing explores the same themes of blurred boundaries between residential spaces and personal lives seen in
“Týden v tichém domě” in the last tale in the collection, “Figurky.” In this story, a young man relocates to Malá Strana in order to have a quiet space where he can prepare for his bar exams. As the narrator plans his move into this part of town, he romanticizes his future residence:
55 Na tu poetickou klidnou Malou Stranu, mezi tiché, milé sousedy, někam do zákoutí odlehlé ulice. Ba, pro můj povynešený nynější duševní stav je naprosto nutno okolí poetického. To bude rozkoš! Tichý dům, vzdušný byt, vyhlídka na dumavý Petřín, vyhlídka do tichounké domácí zahrádky – zahrádka musí při domě být -, práce a mír.8
His anticipation of a quiet work space quickly dissolves when he sublets a room in a tenement house and experiences the same lack of private space seen in “Týden v tichém domě.” On his first night, his neighbors stream into his room to try out his mattress, as his landlady has spread the word that his bed is exceptionally soft and comfortable. In testing the comfort of his bed, the neighbors invade not only his room, but one of the most personal and intimate items in his room. As foreshadowed by this initial lack of privacy, the narrator’s new cohabitants encroach upon his life to such an extent that he becomes too immersed in the tenement community to focus on his studies. The narrator’s behavior undergoes a transformation that reflects his transition from a lone wolf into a member of the community. Previously, uninterested in any romantic attachment, he fancies himself in love with Otylie, the landlord’s daughter. In a similar radical adjustment, the narrator, an unskilled swordsman or gunman, accepts a challenge to a duel and actually wins. While Neruda depicts in this last tale the attraction of belonging to a particular community, he also reveals that membership does not always have positive results. From the narrator’s perspective at the end of the story, Malá Strana is not the serene, beautiful place that he imagined. In fact, as he relocates to his former apartment in a different area, he regrets his decision to come to Malá Strana in the first place, exclaiming “Čert mne nesl na Malou Stranu.”9
8 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 327-328. Neruda, “Serene, poetic Malá Strana. Nice, quiet neighbors off in their nooks and crannies. Yes, for my new exalted state of mind poetic surroundings are absolutely essential. It will be lovely! A quiet house, an airy flat, a view of dreamy Petrin Hill and a tranquil garden - for it must have a garden - work and peace”. Trans. Michael Henry Heim, 245. 9 Neruda, “Figurky,” 412. Neruda, “Figures”,“The devil lured me to Malá Strana!” Translation Michael Henry Heim, 324.
56 Neruda’s references to heavenly and demonic images in Prague contribute to the symbolic, rather than cultural, diversity in Prague. The notion of Prague as perpetually balancing dual natures – whether it be Czech and German or demonic and heavenly - contributes to the eccentricity of the city. Exemplifying this is “U tří lilií,” another story in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské. In this tale, flashes of lightning intermittently illuminate skeletons from an excavated cemetery as the narrator watches a beautiful woman dancing inside a nearby inn, providing a visual contrast between light and dark. The woman steps outside, they talk, and she confesses to him that her mother has recently died. The couple steps into an arcade and at the height of the storm, the narrator experiences through this woman the unique mix of beauty and evil found in Prague:
“Přitiskla se ke mně. Cítil jsem, jak se mi k prsoum lepí vlhký její šat, cítil měkké tělo, sálající dech – bylo mně, jako bych musil vypít tu zlotřilou duši z ní.”10 As the story concludes, the contrast of light and dark, the heavenly and the demonic ultimately combine together, defining Neruda’s Prague as contradictory and ambivalent. These conflicting images of a city both demonic and serene, as seen in “Figurky” and “U tří lilií” are inherent to Neruda’s perception of Prague. His feuilleton “Zlatá ulička na Hradčanech” (“Golden Street in Hrandcany”) describes the juxtaposition of wealth and poverty, crammed tightly together in this part of town. This existence of deep poverty seems all the more ironic being on a street named after a symbol of wealth. The poverty creates some contradiction of its own, as Neruda writes of this street: “Za dne jest zde tedy mrtvo a pusto; jednotlivé ženy s nemluvnatý a leckterý chorobný jsou pak jedinými obyvateli,” thus referring to the contradictory sense of absence and loneliness
10 Neruda, “U tří lilií,” 250. Neruda, “The Three Lilies,” “ She pressed against me. I felt her wet dress clinging to my chest, I felt her soft, warm body, her ardent breath - I felt it was my lot to drain the demonic spirit from her”. Translation Michael Henry Heim, 187.
57 even in the presence of other people. 11 However, it is a flower blooming profusely in the Jelení přikop, (Deer Moat) a narrow grassy area in the center of town, during the spring that embodies the contradictions of Neruda’s Prague. This flower, called srdinka or “little heart”, has a blood red blossom in the shape of a heart, hence its name. According to legend, there once lived a very powerful wizard who had a very beautiful and pure daughter. One evening the wizard came home to find his daughter in the embrace of a young man. He strikes his daughter in anger, killing her, and her blood drips from the window onto the mossy earth below. As Neruda tells us, “Krev jest ale divný, čarodějný mok, a nejdivnější tenkráte, když v lasce proceděná!” As proof of the symbiotic nature of death and life, in the spring, in the very spot where the blood dripped to the ground, sprung up the flower known as srdinka. This story captures the the relationship between two opposing forces, be it life and death or growth and decay that do not just coexist, but exist symbiotically within the context of Neruda’s Prague.12 This balance between opposing forces within Prague reveals the eccentricity of Prague as, according to Lotman’s notion of the semiosphere, extreme conflicts and diversity exist on the edge of a semiosphere, rather than in its center. From Neruda’s perspective, these conflicts define Prague, appearing not only in the mythology of the city, but in his representation of its daily existence. On a smaller scale, the tenement homes are a semiosphere rife with contradictions. The friendly and familial relationships within the buildings persist despite the fluctuations in love and anger. The windows serve as a flexible boundary, dividing the interior space of the homes from the rest of the city, but able to increase or limit contact with society. The flexibility of the windows lies in the ability to open and close them at will,
11 Neruda, Jan. “Zlatá ulička na Hradčanech,” Obrazky z domova i ciziny, (Praha: L. Mazac, 1927) 14. “During the day it is dead and empty here now; single women with babies and all sorts of invalids are the only residents”. Translation mine. 12 Neruda, “Zlatá ulička na Hradčanech”, 14-15. “Blood is a powerful, magical potion, and is ten times more powerful when it makes a stain for love”. Translation mine.
58 symbolizing a character’s willingness or reluctance to interact with others. The act of leaving the windows open or stepping outside the home is often portrayed as reinforcing life and growth. In “Týden v tichém domě,” the house and its residents come to life as the day started, their awakening symbolized by the opening of windows: “Znenáhla stalo se přece živěji. Bilé opony mizely z oken, leckteré okno se odevřelo.” 13 In this scene, the act of opening windows becomes a means for - quite literally - exposing oneself to the surrounding world and affirming one’s existence. Even when closed, a view through a window into someone’s apartment provides an opportunity for connecting people. In “Týden v tichém domě,” a bachelor secretly observes his neighbors through a window: “Mihl se tam za zavřeným , čistým a průhledným oknem ženským šat .”14 The transparency of the window enables a certain voyeurism on the part of the bachelor, who observes the young girl, while remaining somewhat concealed. Whereas an open, or simply uncovered window mediates between characters and their surrounding community, a closed and covered window marks death. The room where the neighbors find Miss Zanynka dead is devoid not only of life, but also of light and fresh air: “Okna do dvora i na Petřin vedoucí byla hustě ověšena a nedovolovala světlu vyniknout nad jakés šero. Vzduch byl starý, puchem a plesnivinou naplněný”.15 In this case, the closed and covered window creates a physical boundary between the world of the living and dead, as well as a symbolic boundary between the dark shadows of death and the bright sunlight of life.
Windows carry a symbolic, as well as a physical, value in “Svatováclavská mše“.
13 Neruda, “Týden v tichém domě,” 18. Neruda, “A Week in a Quiet House,” 7. “Gradually things grew livelier. White curtains vanished from windows; a window opened here and there.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. 14 Neruda, “Týden v tichém domě,” 20. Neruda, “A Week in a Quiet House,” 9. “Though shut, the window was clear and transparent, and he caught a glimpse of a woman’s dress.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. 15 Neruda, “Týden v tichém domě,” 26. “The windows opening on to the courtyard and Petrin Hill were thickly curtained and let in only the dimmest trace of light. The air was stale, all must and mould.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “A Week in a Quiet House,” 13.
59 In this tale, a young boy hides inside St. Vitus‘s Cathedral in Hradčany Castle in order to witness the mystical midnight mass held by St. Wencelas. Alone in the choir loft, and beginning to feel a little frightened, the boy realizes his friends are outside: „Zrovna před oknem se zastavily.“16 The window connects the inside and outside, enabling him to hear his friends calling to him and to feel less alone. The windows connect not only interior and exterior spaces, but also reality and fantasy. The boy‘s friends outside represent reality, while the inside of the church embodies fantasy. After his friends leave and the night wears on, the narrator becomes entrenched in his imagination and witnesses the St.
Wencelas Mass. Upon awakening the next morning and returning to reality, the window figures into the merging of worlds, allowing outside light into the chapel: “Znenáhla jsem se vypamatoval… Naproti mně bylo okno svatováclavské kaple ozářeno vnitřními světly.“17 Thus, windows transition between tanglible and intangible spaces. The windows serve as a flexible and transitional border between spaces. While a window clearly marks the division between interior and exterior space, a closed window can always be opened and an uncovered window can always be curtained as a means of changing the dynamic between the outside and inside or public and private. The dialogue between interior and exterior space via windows is apparent in “Figurky.” When the narrator first moves into the tenant house in search of solitude, he insists on keeping the windows closed, complaining that his landlady “Okna v prvním pokoji otevřela dokořán. Musím je zas zavřít, ale raději až odejde.”18 However, as the narrator becomes more involved in the community in the building, he prefers to leave the windows open,
16 Neruda, “Svatováclavská mše,” 258. “They stopped just beneath the window.” Translation Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “The St. Wencelas Mass,”193. 17 Neruda, “Svatováclavská mše,” 269. “Gradually I came to…The window of St. Wencelas’s Chapel was gleaming from within.” Translation Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “The St. Wencelas Mass,”193. 18 Neruda, “Figurky,” 339. “She has opened the windows in the first room as wide as they go. I’ll have to shut them, but I’ll wait until she leaves.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Figures,” 255.
60 symbolizing his increased connection to his neighbors. As he explains to the reader:
“Nemohl jsem odolat, sedím při dokořán otevřených oknech. Při tom ovšem zalehne každý zvuk z celého domu ke mně, ale vidím, že mne mnoho neruší, - působí to celkem jako vzdálený jey a je alespon změna naproti únavné monotonii zavřeného pokoje.”19 His decision to exit the house and enter the garden that his window overlooks signals his assimilation into the community. The garden or courtyard area, which characterizes many nineteenth century homes and palaces in the Malá Strana, serves a communal space for the residents of Dr.
Krumlovský‘s tenement building. The various tenants frequent the courtyard for companionship with others: they play cards, stroll around, and gossip. Dr. Krumlovský‘s presence in the courtyard and participation in card games and rumormongering marks his decision to become part of this community. The windows continue to function as a liminal space between the inside and outside in this context, as the view from Dr.
Krumlovský‘s apartment into the gardens increases his access to this space and the community.
The view enables Dr. Krumlovský to determine the optimal time to join his neighbors in the garden by helping him avoid certain people, while enabling his neighbors to contact him more easily. In one case, he rushes out to have a conversation with the landlord and his daughter, who he sees from his window. However, once he gets out there, he finds an unwanted neighbor, and explains, „Bohužel nalezl jsem tam také Provázníka, kterého jsem oknem nebyl spatřil.“20 The window also serves as a means for his neighbors to contact him. The dreaded neighbor, Provázník, invites Krumlovský
19 Neruda, “Figurky,” 369. “I can’t resist keeping the windows wide open. Of course sounds from all over the house waft through, but if I think of them as the distant murmur of a weir, they don’t bother me as much; on the contrast, it’s a welcome change from the monotony of the closed rooms.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Figures,” 284. 20 Neruda, “Figurky,” 381. “Unfortunately, I find Provaznik with them. He wasn’t visible from the window.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Figures,” 296.
61 down to the garden for a game of cards and „postavil se pod mé zahradní okno a spustil skuhravým hlasem.“21 Thus, the windows ability to connect spaces, as well as people, demonstrates their essential role in the daily life of a closely-knit community. The pub is another space that reflects membership in the community. In this case, the space is not divided in terms of inside and outside, but divides patrons into insiders and outsiders. The tale “Pan Ryšánek a pan Schlegl” (“Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel”) vividly portrays the closely knit community of a given bar, as the patrons of the neighborhood bar are so well known that “Když postáli někteří ti štajnicovští hosté chvilku spolu venku na chodníku, pozdravil je každý kolem jdoucí občan, znal je.” 22 Moreover, spaces for two regulars, Mr. Rysanek and Mr. Schlegel, are reserved every evening, as “Aby se byl snad někdo jiný odvážil yasednout kdy místo navyklé, to patřilo vůbec k věcem … nu poněvadž se to nedalo ani myslet,” thus indicating the prestige and importance of being a regular customer that belongs to the pub community.23
Later in the collection, in “Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku” (“How Mr. Vorel Broke in His Meerschaum”) Neruda portrays the failed attempt of a newcomer to break into such a tight circle. In this tale, residents of Malá Strana are shocked when the unknown Mr. Vorel not only moves into the neighborhood, but also when he opens a flour shop in a space that as far as local memory reached back, was previously only for residential purposes. Although he frequents the local pub every evening, the locals repeatedly shun him. As the narrator explains:
21 Neruda, “Figurky, 388. “And standing under my window, he sings in a hideous caterwaul.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Figures,” 303. 22 Neruda, “Pan Ryšánek and pan Schlegel,” 144-145. “Whenever a group of the Steinitz regulars went outside for a chat, they were greeted by each and every passerby. Everyone knew them.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel,” 109. 23 Neruda, “Pan Ryšánek and pan Schlegel,” 148. “The idea that someone might venture to take the seat of a regular guest was ... simply unthinkable.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel,” 112.
62 Jevili naproti němu veškerou pýchu domorodců, byl jim cizí. Večer sedal v Žlutém domku při džbánku piva, na rohu stolku vedle kamen sám a sám. Ostatní sobě ho ani nevšímali, ledaže kývli hlavou, když pozdravil. Kdo přišel později než on, podíval se na něj, jako by tu ten cizí člověk seděl dnes poprvé; přišel-li on později, stalo se, že hovor utichnoul. 24
Despite his repeated attempts to break into the community, Mr. Vorel is continually rejected. He has broken an unspoken law by changing the space of Malá Strana, and because of this, he will never become an insider. As Neruda writes in a feuilleton on
Prague called “Ze starých hospůdek” (“On Old Pubs”): “Třeba by se člověk dosti rád loucil se zastraralými náhledy, myšlénkami a někdy i s lidmi, s neživotnými věcmi loučí se přece nerad, a rovněž i mezi lidmi s jednotlivými zkostnatélými reprezentnany obyčeju.”25 Based on the neighbors’ reactions, the space of Malá Strana, particularly its living space, falls into this category of inanimate objects an individual will part with only unwillingly. The final grouping of space in Neruda’s Prague are the public spaces of city streets and workplaces. These public spaces reflect the overlap of Czech and German culture in Prague, and the tension between these two groups, particularly concerning language. For example, in “Týden v tichém domě”, young Mr. Bavor loses his job because he speaks Czech incessantly, thus violating the Director’s rule that all employees speak German. One of Mr. Bavor’s colleagues confesses the extreme embarrassment his daughter suffers when he speaks Czech on the street instead of German.26 Although brief, these references to German culture nonetheless remind the reader of the politically
24 Neruda, “Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,” 239. “Theirs was the pride of the native; he was an outsider. He spent his evenings in the Yellow House with a jug of beer, sitting all alone at a table near the stove. The rest of the company took no notice of him, barely acknowledging his greetings with a nod. Anyone who came in later than he did stared at him as if he were a total stranger there for the first time; when he came in later, they would immediately stop talking.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Neruda, “How Mr. Vorel Broke in His Meerschaum,” 178. 25 Neruda, “Ze starých hospuůdek,” Obrazky z domova i ciziny, 23. “If necessary, a person would be happy enough to part with obsolete opinions, thoughts and sometimes even with people, but would be not at all happy to part with inanimate things and with individual fossilized symbols of customs.” Translation mine. 26 Neruda, 51-60.
63 charged weight of language in nineteenth century Prague. In the division of space according to nationality, the choice of language – Czech or German- , in addition to the space one inhabited, revealed national identity as Czech, German or Jewish. Recalling that Malá Strana was defined by cultural diversity in the nineteenth century, the absence of these languages and cultures in Povídky malostranské reveals Neruda’s political agenda: to connect the urban space of Prague to the Czech nation and return the eccentric city to the center. Because of his emphasis on the cultural and political position of Prague, Neruda focuses primarily on the commuity of people, rather than the spaces they inhabit in his portrayal of urban life. While Neruda clearly depends upon various spaces, such as the tenement homes, pubs and streets, within Prague, he typically provides only minimal descriptions of the settings. However, the references to specific streets and the area of town - Malá Strana - immediately impart a vivid image of the atmosphere and the appearance of the setting to those familiar with the city. While Neruda perhaps chose Malá Strana as the topos for his tales because of his personal attachment to this area where he grew up and resided for most of his life, the history of this locale encapsulates many of the qualities that make Prague an eccentric city. Specifically, an examination of the development of this region will reveal the power struggle between Hradcany Castle and the surrounding area, the political and national tensions between Czechs and Germans and the religious shifts between Lutherans and Catholics. At the time Neruda was writing Povídky malostranské, the physical space of Malá Strana was fairly well established. Although the area had undergone various transformations over the years, most notably from a predominantly Medieval architectural style to Baroque patterns, the churches, palaces, and ornate gardens designed during the eighteenth century have remained firmly planted in Malá Strana from
64 the time of their construction until the present day.27 The history of Malá Strana’s development and various transformations in architectural style over time reveal the origins of the various tensions between peoples and places in Prague that Neruda references in his stories. These tensions between the Germans and Czechs, the foreigners and the natives, and the minority and majority, define the former central and capital city as an eccentric and peripheral one under the Habsburg reign. From the time of its origins in the eighth century, Malá Strana bore a connection to the geographical and political center of Prague. The natural landscape of Prague, such as the peak where Hradcany Castle is located,the slopes of Petrin Hill, and the Vltava River, defines the area of Malá Strana. Located just under the headland where Hradcany Castle stood, Malá Strana was situated close to the physical center of Prague, marked by the castle. The proximity between these two spaces caused significant influence of one upon the other, creating a symbiotic relationship. While Malá Strana, primarily a marketplace and residential area, provided commerce and housing necessary to those working or living in the castle, the leadership included Malá Strana within the city walls. This inclusion between the city walls allowed Malá Strana not only defense if the city came under attack, but also reinforced the notion of the area as central to the entire city.28 The development of city walls as rulers strove to increase Prague’s defensive ability in the thirteenth century brought about one of the first transformations in Malá Strana’s development. During the reigns of Wencelas I and his son Otakar II (1253-1278) of the Premyslid Dynasty, the natural boundaries defining Malá Strana were transformed into constructed ones enclosing the space between Charles Bridge (then the Judith Bridge) and the castle, thereby securing Malá Strana along with Hradcany Castle. As a
27 Stankova, Jaroslava, Jiri Stursa, and Svatopluk Vodera. Prague: Eleven Centuries of Architecture. Trans. Zdenek Vyplel and David Vaughan. Prague: Stankova, Stursa and Vodera, 1992, 52-53. For a discussion of the role of gardens throughour Viennese history, see Rotenberg, Robert Louis, Landscape and Power in Vienna. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995. 28 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 52-53.
65 priveleged area because of the fortifications and proximity to the castle, Otakar hand selected the residents for Malá Strana in 1257. He chased out much of the local population and invited new colonists, most of whom were German, to settle there.29 Thus, the tension between Czechs and Germans in this part of town and throughout Prague, as alluded to by Neruda, originated at the same time the city began to grow. Aside from its residential areas, much of Malá Strana was devoted to commerce, most notably, the city marketplace. The original marketplace in Malá Strana was situated alongside the south gate of the castle, where the present day Snemovani Street is located.
In 1283 a new central marketplace was created in the space now known as Malostranské naměstí and the St. Nicholas Cathedral was constructed adjacent to the marketplace, thus creating a new center for Malá Strana. With this new center, the older marketplace and previous center decreased in importance and usage and finally, disappeared altogether when Charles IV decided to close the south gate of the castle that was close to the former marketplace.30 In the mid sixteenth century a fire marked another transformation in the appearance and development of Malá Strana. The Great Fire of 1541, as it is called, originated in the center of the Malá Strana by the main square and destroyed the majority of the surrounding medieval architecture. The buildings that were reconstructed were designed primarily in the Baroque style, which lead to the predominant Baroque characteristics of Malá Strana today.31 The Baroque reconstruction of new houses and palaces for the middle class and nobility in Malá Strana, along with the existing St. Nicholas Cathedral become the central focus of Prague’s Baroque cityscape. The Baroque redevelopment of the city did not alter the overall layout of the city and its streets, but rather redesigned many of the facades or filled empty lots with new buildings,
29 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 52-53. 30 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 52-53. 31 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 52-53.
66 thus lending a unified appearance to Malá Strana and the rest of Prague. The Baroque style proved particularly well suited for Prague as the combination of planes and curves allowed architects to take advantage of hills and irregularities in the landscape, as well as sloping or terraced squares.32 The transformation of Prague into a Baroque city matched aesthetic deisgns with its natural landscape, but also carried political and religious connotations. The redesign and construction of churches and palaces with Baroque styling marked the reign of the Habsburg Empire in Bohemia and emphasized the tensions between Czechs and
Germans. At the same time, the building introduced Prague to Italian culture, as nobility imported entire Italian families to assist in the Baroque construction. Many of these designers and builders chose to remain in Prague and comprised the Italian population in
Malá Strana on the street Vlasska, mentioned above.33 In the case of the churches, Baroque curves and arches came to represent the Roman Catholic denomination, the religion of the ruling Habsburgs. One of the first churches restored during this time was the former Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity in Malá Strana, originally built in the Gothic Style. This church was rebuilt from 1636 - 1644 and was rededicated to Our Lady the Victorious. A unique example of Baroque churches in Prague is the Church of St. Joseph in the Carmelite Convent in Malá Strana. This church, built from 1683 -1691 in the Belgian Baroque style, has a remarkable facade receding from the front of the neighboring buildings. The most predominant example of Baroque Churches is St. Nicholas Church in Malá Strana Square. The famous architect, Christian Dientzenhofer, built St. Nicholas’s Church from 1704-1756. His son, Killian Ignaz Dientzenhofer, placed the finishing touches on the church, adding the bell tower and bell. The construction of these elaborate Catholic Churches indicates the power and influence of the German Catholics in Prague. This influx of foreign nationalities and
32 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera,136 and 169. 33 Porter,Tim. Prague Art and History. (Prague: Flow East, 1991.)
67 religions in the center of Prague drove away many Czech Protestants, including Hussites, who emigrated out of the country. Thus, the tension between nationalities was not limited to the differences in languages described by Neruda in Povídky malostranské, but also manifested as a conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism.34 Just as the reconstruction of the churches signaled religious transitions in Prague, the redesign of palaces marked political transitions. After the Habsburgs came to power, members of the German nobility relocated to Prague. In place of the middle-class houses destroyed by the fire of 1541, particularly in the vicinity of the Hradcany Castle, comfortable palaces for German aristocratic families appeared.35 Just as the elaborate churches revealed the prestige and wealth of organized religion, the palaces were also meant to reflect the priveleged social role of new building contractors. Typical features of the architectural style of the seventeenth century included simple designs, with a minimum of geometrical designs and three dimensional features. Palace walls, however, were often decorated with massive columns and plasters with powerful vertical lines. The walls in between windows bear the most elaborate aspects of these designs, often containing the few geometrical features in the design.36 In Neruda’s Povídky malostranské , his characters reside in simple tenement homes where middle-class citizens reside, rather than in the elaborate Baraoque palaces spread throughout Malá Strana. The most dramatic Baroque palaces in Prague, such as the Wallenstein Palace, the Schonborn Palace and the Černin Palace, all located in Malá Strana, display the elaborate and exaggerated features typical for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Wallenstein Palace, originally a medieval house called Trckovsky House, was purchased by an Austrian nobleman, General Albrecht Eusebius of Wallenstein in 1621. He commissioned a redesign by Andrea Spezza, an Italian
34 Sayer, 49-52. 35 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 171. 36 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera,161.
68 architect. The architecture of the facade combines the late Italian Renaissance and northern styles: portals and dormer-windows are set into the horizontal facade with its rows of window aedicules.37 Schonborn Palace, constructed between 1643-1656, was built on the site of an earlier house that was destroyed during the Thirty Years War (1618 - 1648) when the Malá Strana quarter was occupied by invading Swedish forces. The present palace was erected in the period 1643 - 1656 by Count Colloredo-Mansfeld, an Austro-Hungarian general. The palace was remodeled in 1715 by Italian architect Giovanni Santini. The decorative moldings around the windows are adorned with ornamental heads and garlands in the baroque style, and the arch leading to the central courtyard is supported by two gigantic caryatids (Atlantes), the work of Matthias Braun, one of the best sculptors of the age.38 Behind the palace stretches a terraced garden and orchard of seven acres which extends up a hillside. Černin Palace, later renamed Kolowrate Palace, in Loreto Square adjacent to the Hradcany Castle was built from 1669
- 1679 by Francesco Carrati. Humpert Černin of Chudenic, the imperial representative for Venice, owned the lot and commissioned the design. He desired a palace that outshone the Hradcany Castle, therefore he increased the scale of the palace features, as exemplified by the thirty pillars as high as the facade.39 Through reconstructing palaces in an opulent style and expanding from their original style, the German nobility demonstrated their wealth and power in Prague. This dynamic persists throughout the history of Malá Strana. Neruda does not reference this tension specifically in his tales, but rather seeks to emphasize the Czechness of Prague and Malá Strana by delineating the Czech community, rather than the German one, residing in this part of town. By omitting the German population from his short stories,
37 Parliament of the Czech Republic-Senate. 17 March 2004.
69 Neruda symbolically strips them of their power. However, the singular mention of
Germans alludes to their power over Czechs. As previously mentioned, in “Týden v tichém domě,” the German managers at the office where young Mr. Bavor works became frustrated when the employees spoke Czech, rather than German, as they could not understand what they were saying. One manager fired young Mr. Bavor from his job as he prefered to speak Czech, rather than German, at the workplace. This scene depicts the dynamic between Germans and Czechs in Neruda’s Prague: while Germans turned to wealth to demonstrate their power, the Czechs undermined this power by eliminating them from their world, as in the case of speaking in a language they cannot understand, or as we find in Neruda, omission. This clash between nationalities positions Prague as a border area and reveals its eccentricities. The influx of Germans into the city caused the conflicts and centuries long merging of cultures typical for a boundary that is forced to adapt to two diverse spaces, or in this case cultures, to each other. While this occurs on the level of cultures in Prague, this type of a boundary exists in the spatial layout of the city as well. As mentioned above in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, the courtyards where characters congregate serve as a liminal area between the city streets and the houses in terms of public and private space. The balance between living residences and courtyards in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské suggests that the existence of a garden was considered a predominant feature of the Prague cityscape, particularly in Malá Strana. The connection between garden design and palace layouts culminated during the Baroque period. During this time, an almost uninterrupted band of gardens emerged on the north slope of Petrin Hill, the slope beneath Strahov Convent and on the southern slope of the Hradcany headland. Terraces and steps climbed the hills along the axes of the rear palace facades, and in some places even reached as far as the Castle. The primary goal of garden architects during this time was to improve the existing layout in a garden and create a unique
70 design. The sloping hills of Malá Strana allowed the terraced gardens to satisfy both practical and aesthetic demands, as the layers of plantings along the hills made the most of the natural landscape and at the same time enabled original layouts and creative use of stone and sculpture. It was on the southern slope near the Wallenstein Palace that the most remarkable terrace gardens appeared, such as the Černin Garden, that display until today individual and refined architecture, as well as valuable sculptures by the leading
Baroque masters.40 The first major garden was the Wallenstein Garden in Malá Strana, built from 1627-1630. In the 1700’s, the noted architect Kanka constructed a garden in
Černin Palace. The Schonborn Palace had a garden designed on the slopes of Petřin Hill in a clear axial layout.41 The gardens with their elaborate layouts and fine sculptures represented the wealth and power of their owners. However, the paradigm of houses with gardens resonated throughout Malá Strana in particular, even in middle class and tenement homes. As seen in Neruda, gardens became an essential element for a building, providing a space to wander, meditate and socialize. The Baroque period in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries within Prague affected not only churches and palaces for the exclusive classes of nobility and clergy, but also the homes where middle class citizens resided, such as those described in Neruda’s Povídky malostranské. As in the case of churches and palaces, trends in the construction of houses and shops leaned towards renovating and adapting existing structures rather than building new ones. As a result, many Baroque facades cover Gothic houses with Renaissance vaults. As Stankova notes “The external cladding of houses with stucco work molded in different shapes and patterns covered over the Renaissance graffiti, softened the street fronts and enriched them with the dynamics of light and shadow.”42 The new Baroque houses were quite wide and had a central wall
40 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 177. 41 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 171. 42 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 67.
71 parallel to the facade flanked by one or two sections broken forward, and either a carriage path or two symmetrical entrances. The sections that projected outwards usually had a rectangular front, sometimes combined with an attic roof. The mansard roofs were adorned with dormer windows. As in palaces, the windows upstairs were taller and they often had richly moulded jambs.43 In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, all of Prague experienced a building boom. As architects rebuilt old middle-class houses that no longer met modern needs or stood on valuable lots, they often redesigned them as tenement homes. The typical redesign consisted of several parts surrounding a yard with passageways, as is often described in the tenant homes Neruda’s Povídky malostranské, particularly “Týden v tichém domě” and “Figurky.” The growth of tenant homes in particular accompanied the urban growth that began with the Industrial Revolution in the 1770s and the abolition of serfdom in 1781. People from a wide range of social classes, including wage laborers, shopkeepers, artisans and nobility, arrived in Prague. While diverse social classes arrived in Prague, people opted to reside in separate spaces, which were marked by nationality as much as class. Nobles resided in the historic towns within the town walls, while some of them built summer palaces and villas with gardens. To provide housing for the middle- and lower- class newcomers to the city, some owners attached wings to their houses that extended into their courtyards, which brought higher profits from the rent. At the turn of the 1830s and 1840s, new tenement houses were built along the main streets or on newly constructed side streets. The landlord’s apartment was the largest, comprised of several rooms, a kitchen and a storage room, and was typically situated on the first floor and facing the street. The remaining apartments in the house consisted of one or two rooms and a kitchen. The flats included a storage room or pantry,
43 Baroque Windows in Prague. Ed. Roberto Piperno. 2005. 17 March 2005. http://members.tripod.com/romeartlover/Domino2.html
72 or only a cellar in the basement for storing wood and coal. A progressive element was the cooking stove in the kitchen and the tiled stove - plzenky - in one of the other rooms. Usually these apartments lacked hallways and were entered from a gallery or stairs. These galleries contained many of the utilities, such as water mains and dry toilets with cesspits. The yard usually contained a water well and pump and also contained a drain for disposing of sewage and wastewater.44 In the late 1860s, tenement homes with all the amenities, including a main entrance door from the staircase, appeared in Prague. 45 These types of tenement homes with amenities such as running water seem closest to those in Neruda’s short stories. In looking at their development, it is possible to see how the sense of community, characteristic of Neruda’s fictional homes, developed among residents living within the same building. The influence of tenement homes’ and of other spaces, such as pubs, on one’s daily existence comes across clearly in Neruda’s prose. These areas promoted the growth of closely-knit community, which represents both the charm and the disadvantages of a smaller town. However, the political and religious tensions, which shaped these spaces and the lives of residents, remain hidden in his texts, as Neruda attempts to associate Czechness with an urban, rather than the countryside and re-center Prague as a Czech city.
44 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 203. 45 Stankova, Stursa, and Vodera, 241.
73 Rome, 1800 Jewish National and University Library
74 Chapter Three Creation and Alienation: Gogol's 'Рим' from the Perspective of the Petersburg Tales
While Gogol remains best known for his short story collections Вечера на хуторе близ
Диканьки (Village Evenings Near Dikan’ka) and Миргород (Mirgorod) both set in rural
Ukraine, and his novel Мертвые души (Dead Souls) located in feudal Russia, he in fact spent very little time in the Ukraine after his childhood, never wrote anything in Ukrainian, and never visited the Russian countryside during his lifetime. The city of Rome proved far more influential upon him, providing the opportunity to focus on artistic development enabling some of his most productive writing periods. Gogol spent a total of three years in the Eternal City, residing there first from 1837 to 1839. After returning briefly to Russia, he again fled to Rome, staying there from 1840 to 1841.
The time spent in Rome influenced Gogol’s personal and creative life. During his first trip, Gogol developed a deeper spiritual and sexual awareness, as the result of several key friendships. The Princess Zinaida Volkonskaya, patron of Russian artists living in Italy and convert to Roman Catholicism, befriended Gogol and introduced him to many Roman Catholic priests in an attempt to convert him from Orthodoxy. Although Gogol entertained the priests’ discussions, he staunchly refused to abandon Orthodoxy. As Henri Troyat notes in his biography of Gogol, Divided Soul, the difference he perceived between Orthodoxy and
75 Catholicism was more aesthetic than doctrinal.1 This focus on the aesthetics of rituals explains
Gogol’s reluctance to adopt a new religion: he saw the differences only in superficial terms of ritual and daily practice. Although Gogol resisted pressure to undergo any religious transformation, he did experience a profound sexual awakening when he fell deeply in love with the ailing Count Iosif Vielhorsky. Scholars, including Troyat and Simon Karlinsky in The Sexual
Labyrinth of Nikolai Gogol, agree that this friendship proved pivotal for Gogol’s sexual awareness. Gogol never reconciled his homosexual tendencies with his own conscience, but the records of their relationship in personal letters make public the feelings that Gogol did not.
While the first trip influenced his personal relationships, the second trip to Rome proved critical for the completion of several writing projects. During his 1840-1841 stay, Gogol finished his novel Мертвые души and several of his Petersburg tales, including “Шинель” (“The
Overcoat”) and revised others, such as “Нос” (“The Nose”) and “Портрет” (“The Portrait.”)2
At the same time, he began to work on a novel Аннунциата (Annunziata.) He wrote approximately seventy-five pages that comprise the first chapter, entitled “Рим” (“Rome.”) The fragment “Рим” remained unpublished in his lifetime. The story explores the return of a young man, named only “the young prince,” to his native Rome after residing in Paris for several years.
He initially finds his family home and the city foreign, and must reacquaint himself with these spaces and overcome his feelings of alienation.
1 In Troyat’s words, Gogol “saw what separated Russian from Roman Christianity. The Orthodox Church was a sort of solemn administration, petrified in immemorial ritual, having no direct power over souls; whereas the Roman Church, by virtue of its priesthood, was an active militant, ubiquitous institution whose influence reached far beyond the holy precincts, penetrating into homes and directing individual lives,” 185. 2 Troyat, 201-240.
76 Given the concurrent writing of Петербургские повести (Petersburg Tales) and “Рим” it is not surprising to find several overlapping themes. Because of the common themes, and also mirror images, in Gogol’s portrayal of St. Petersburg and Rome, scholars often place the existing fragment “Рим” with the collection of Петербургские повести. The coinciding and contradictory themes in these tales about two different cities prove essential to understanding
Gogol’s general interpretation of urban life, as well as the unique qualities of Rome and
Petersburg. Whereas Gogol demonizes St. Petersburg as an eccentric city, he idealizes Rome, perhaps due to his perspective as a foreigner, as a traditional city. The layout of streets alone,
Petersburg’s being long and straight and Rome’s curving and twisted, speaks to the contradictory city planning. However, as discussed earlier, designers modeled much of St. Petersburg architecture on classical Roman buildings. This chapter will move beyond the physical appearances of these cities to examine three specific areas of similarities and differences in
Gogol’s Petersburg and Rome: spirituality, creative expression, and tension between alienation and belonging in order to reveal the intricacies of the author’s perception of Russia’s “Window to the West” and Italy’s “Eternal City.”
Gogol’s perspective on urban space coincides with Yuri Lotman’s notion of eccentric cities, such as St. Petersburg, that was constructed artificially and forcefully by Peter the Great. Rome, on the other hand, developed gradually over hundreds of years, and represents a traditional urban setting with the city extending outwards from a central area. These different histories influence the cultural symbolism of each city. As Lotman writes in Universe of the Mind, Rome symbolizes artistic beauty and human creation, whereas Petersburg embodies images of destruction, artificiality and the apocalypse. Despite these opposing images, a symbolic
77 association with Rome arose in Saint Petersburg in the early nineteenth century as Petersburg was referred to as the “New Rome,” thus suggesting a connection between these cities.3
In fact, a physical and intellectual relationship existed between these two cities during the nineteenth century. The physical bond consisted of the Russian circle of writers and artists residing in Rome throughout the 1830s. While many intellectuals traveled throughout Europe at this time, many Russian artists, like Gogol, along with the painter Aleksandr Ivanov, traveled to
Rome and joined the company of Princess Zinaida Volkonskaya, a patron of many writers and artists. The desire to experience Rome reveals the intellectual connection, as artists and writers sought out contact with classical civilization that was absent from Russia’s past. They hoped exposure to classical civilization would imbue their writing and artwork, and thus reflect the spiritual depth of Russia.4
Gleb Lebedev argues a more detailed approach to the symbolism linking these cities in his article “Рим и Петербург: археология урбанизма и субстанция вечного города” (“Rome and Petersburg: the archeology of urbanism and the substance of an eternal city.”) Contrary to
Lotman, he argues that Rome and Saint Petersburg are strikingly similar in origination and cultural symbolism. Both were capitals of Empires; Rome became the foundation for a Eurocentric pillar of world civilization and Saint Petersburg, as a powerful trading center for the Baltic area, enabled the import of European goods for the whole area. A similarity also exists in the cultural code of each city, as the development of each city revolves around the identity of one great man: Peter the Apostle in Rome and Peter the Great in Saint Petersburg. Peter the Apostle paved the way
3 Lotman, Universe of the Mind, 192-194.
78 for the existing Ancient Rome to become the center of Catholicism, as he brought Christianity with him from the Middle East, while Peter the Great brought European traditions to Russia from his travels in the Netherlands and Germany, embodied by the creation of Saint Petersburg.
In Rome, the dome covering Peter’s grave became the architectural focal point for the city. In
Saint Petersburg, the first structure built was the new Peter and Paul Fortress, which also served as an architectural focal point and the site of Peter the Great’s tomb. As Lebedev points out, there is a similarity to both Peters’ missions: each strove to bring new cultural knowledge to a city and eventually a nation. The difference lies in the state of each city’s development upon their arrival: when Peter the Apostle journeyed to Rome, the city already constituted the center of European civilization, whereas when Peter the Great first traveled to St. Petersburg, the city barely even existed.
Despite his compelling presentation of similarities, Lebedev acknowledges the artificiality of Saint Petersburg as little more than an idealistic copy of Italian architecture. He writes that
Saint Petersburg was a clean slate for Italian architects to implement their ideal designs, thus the city came to embody the dreams of all the foreign designers. The artistic perfection of their creations lacked any direct connection to Russian history or culture and could not impart the layers of history or the essence of Italian culture onto the city. This disconnection between art and culture created an artificial, inorganic city, rather than one with structures that naturally and organically evolved over time, as in the case of Rome. As a result of the discontinuity between
4 Billington, James H. The Icon and the Axe: An Interpretive History of Russian Culture. (New York: Vintage Books, 1970) 335-337.
79 buildings, culture and city, the beauty of Saint Petersburg was destined as a sterile design model, rather than a livable city.5
The common themes of religion and architecture in St. Petersburg’s and Rome’s histories noted by Lebedev appear in Gogol’s stories about these cities. These fundamental elements define not only the atmosphere of the cities, but also influence the characters’ lives and identities.
The theme of spirituality proves particularly relevant, as it reveals the religious sensibility of a character, as well as his sense of self and connection with his surroundings. In his stories Gogol associates a developing sense of self-awareness with exploring spirituality, as the young prince in
“Рим” and Major Kovalyov in the Petersburg Tale “Нос” confront their self-identity and religious faith (or lack of, as in the case of Kovalyov) simultaneously in churches.
In “Рим,” Gogol addresses the issue of spirituality in the very beginning of the story when the main character, the young prince, crosses the border into his native Italy and stops off in a small church in Genoa to pray. In this scene, the prince experiences a re-awakening sense of spirituality that intertwines with his sense of self as he enters a church and prays for the first time in many years upon returning to his homeland. The prince himself makes this connection between his return and his re-awakened spirituality, noting that he lost sight of his religion while in France: “Он вспомнил, что уже много лет не был в церкви, потерявшей свое чистое,
высокое значение в тех умных землях Европы.” 6 This belief begins his quest to do more than physically return to his native land, but to feel at home and belong there, as he unexpectedly
5 Лебедев, “Рим и Петербург: археология урбанизм и субстанция вечного города,” Метафизика Петербурга (Санкт-Петербург: Эйдос, 1993) 47-62. 6 Gogol, “Рим,” 547. “He recalled that he had not been in a church for many years, having lost his pure, sublime ideals in those clever European lands.” Translation mine.
80 prays, giving thanks that his native land accept him: “долго молился, сам не зная за что:
молился, что его приняла Италия, что снизошло на него желание молиться, что празднично
было у него на душе, - и молитва эта, верно, была лучшая.” 7 The scene in the church speaks to the transformation the prince is undergoing during his move from France to his native land, as he attempts to reclaim lost values – namely spirituality – that he considers connected to his self- identity and his native country. His heartfelt prayer of thanks that Italy has accepted him places the nation in the position of priest and the young prince in that of a confessor requesting forgiveness for his sins, meaning his turn away from Italy and his own spirituality. The prince actually becomes, as Lucy Vogel suggests, a prodigal son, who, having sinned, returns home to be welcomed and embraced by his family.8 In this case, the entire nation of Italy serves as a surrogate for the prince’s recently deceased father, and as in the case of the prodigal son, he hopes for the warm unconditional acceptance of his native land.
In the Petersburg tales, Major Kovalyov’s visit to Kazan Cathedral in “Нос” evokes the church scene in “Рим” with its similar themes of religion and self-identity. The presence in St.
Petersburg, however, affects one’s experience in a church. In “Нос”, Kovalyov’s visit does not reflect any degree of spirituality, but is irreverent and humorous, emphasizing the main character’s egoism and vanity. This difference appears at the very start of the scene, as
Kovalyov enters the cathedral in pursuit of his detached nose, masquerading as a high official, without any religious or spiritual agenda. Inside the church, he does not experience any peace or
7 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 547. “For a long time he prayed, not knowing himself for what: he gave thanks that Italy accepted him, that the desire to pray had come over him, that his spirit was rejoicing – and this prayer, truly, was the best.” Translation mine. 8 Vogel, Lucy, “Gogol’s Rome,” The Slavic and East European Journal, Vol. 11, No.2 (Summer, 1967) 153.
81 sense of spiritual emotion. Although Kovalyov is too preoccupied with his missing nose to pray, he does find the strength to focus on an attractive young woman. This contributes to his portrayal as a superficial man, interested in pursuing physical pleasure and bereft of any deeper layers in his personality, even at a time of personal distress. He attempts to flirt with the young woman, until he recalls his marred physical appearance, and jumps as if he had been burned:
“вдруг он отскочил, как будто бы обжегшись. Он вспомнил, что у него вместо носа
совершенно нет ничего, и слезы выдавались из глаз его.”9 The image of being burned as he jumps away, as if he caught fire, connotes hellish punishment for his lack of reverence in church.
Considering Kovalyov’s lack of spirituality in this scene, the blank spot on his face, where his nose once existed, may be read as a symbol of his religious void. However, in keeping with the humorous tone, the conclusion of the scene, as he begins to cry does not evoke any sympathy from the reader, but emphasizes the humor and ridiculousness of his missing nose.
Comparing the church scenes of “Рим” and “Нос” reveals a fundamental difference between Italy and Petersburg: whereas the continuity between space and history in Italy encourages spirituality and reflection, the discontinuity of these aspects in St. Petersburg emphasizes superficial qualities, such as physical appearances, and lacks spiritual depth. In
Rome, spirituality serves as bridge for connecting individuals to their surroundings and the layers of history and generations in a city. In Saint Petersburg, however, attempts to experience religion turn up with empty results, as the city space does not enable a connection with the Russian culture or past.
9 Gogol, 395. “But suddenly he recoiled as if scalded. He had remembered that in place of a nose he had absolutely nothing, and tears issued from his eyes.” Gogol, 44.
82 Similarly, the theme of artwork and the related issue of creativity reflect the ability or inability of an artist to connect to his surroundings, thus furthering the opposition between Rome and Saint Petersburg. In both “Рим” and the Petersburg Tales, particularly “Портрет,” artwork and creativity prove a defining element in the urban atmosphere, enabling characters to connect to their surroundings and open the door to spiritual awareness. However, the conclusion of these stories reinforces the portrayal of Saint Petersburg as an artificial vortex and Rome as a spiritual gateway.
In “Рим,” as the young prince walks through the city, he perceives the city as a sort of living museum, with the entire space serving as a work of art, thanks to the high degree of artistry found in Roman architecture. Standing on the city streets, the young prince experiences a powerful involuntary and instinctive spiritual response to the architecture: “И понял он наконец
ясно, что только здесь, только в Италии, слышно присутсвие архитектуры и строгое ее
величие как художества. ”10 The prince’s interaction with the physical space of Rome intensifies as he steps inside the churches and palaces: “Ещё выше было духовное его
наслаждение, когда он переносился во внутренность церквей и дворцов.”11 His emotional response arises from an awareness of the creative process. From Gogol’s perspective, the creation of artwork embodies spirituality and the human ability to transform emotion into a tangible product. As the narrator of “Рим” notes, the artwork was created according to well thought out plans, but the true achievement of art lies in the intangible force of creativity, realized
10 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 551. “And he finally comprehended that only here, only in Italy, does the presence of architecture and its severe grandeur as an art form become audible.” Translation mine. 11 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 551.
83 by the artist’s brush: “арки, плоские столпы и круглые колонны из всех возможных сортов
мрамора, перемешанные с базальтовыми, лазурными карнизами, порфиром, золотом и
античным камнями, сочетались согласно, покоренные обдуманной мысли, и выше их всех
вознеслось бессмертное создание кисти.”12 Thus, in “Рим,” through the creative process a simple brush serves as a tool for solidifying an artist’s spirituality. As an extension of this process, an observer’s profound response to the artwork and architecture in the city demonstrates his own spirituality.
The theme of artwork provides the most explicit points of contrast between Rome and
Saint Petersburg, as Gogol specifically makes comparisons between the two cultures from this perspective. In both “Невский Проспект” and in “Портрет,” Gogol contrasts Saint Petersburg artwork with that produced in Italy. Through this comparison of artwork, the author portrays
Italy as inspirational and heavenly, and Saint Petersburg as gloomy and degenerate. The narrator of “Невский Проспект” (“The Nevsky Prospect”) wonders at how the damp Saint Petersburg climate even provides the inspiration necessary for the creation of artwork as the Italian artists clearly glean their motivation from the hot, proud Italian skies. In describing the young painter,
Piskaryov, the narrator expresses these differences:
Это был художник. Не правда ли, странное явление? Художник в земле снегов, художник в стране финнов, где всё мокро, гладко, ровно, бледно, серо, туманно. Эти художники вовсе не похожи на художников итальянских, гордых, горячих, как Италия и её небо.....13
“His spiritual pleasure was even more sublime when he stepped inside cathedrals and palaces.” Translation mine. 12 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 551. “Arches, thick pillars, and round columns of all possible types of marble, mixed with basalt, azure cornices, gold and ancient stones, composed accordingly, rooted in careful thought, and above it all arose the immortal creation of the brush.” Translation mine. 13 Gogol, 10.
84 The narrator clearly prefers the Italian climate over the weather in Saint Petersburg, using bland, weak words like “flat” and “pale” to describe the Saint Petersburg climate and strong, energetic adjectives like “proud” and “hot” to depict the Italian climate. This passage creates an interesting connection between climate and artistic inspiration, suggesting that the weather not only influences the style of artwork, but also the artist’s productivity, as suggested by the narrator’s surprise that an artist could even exist in such a climate.
Elements of climate appear elsewhere in Gogol’s descriptions of both Saint Petersburg and Rome, emphasizing the difference between these two spaces.14 The starkness of Saint
Petersburg manifests itself in the bitter Northern winds described in “Шинель” that course through the streets in the winter, torturing individuals rushing to work. In contrast, Gogol emphasizes the warmth of Rome with frequent references to the sun and the use of bright flaming colors in the landscape of “Рим”. When the young prince first returns home, he sees on the street “нечистый рыжий капуцин, вдруг вспыхнувший на солнце световерблюжьим
цветом.”15 Both the red-hair and exploding golden light reflect the heat of the sun, and its influence on the behavior and nature of visitors and residents in Rome. This hot climate exists not just within the city center, but also on its outskirts. The young prince sees a field “пламенея
“Our young man was an artist. A strange phenomenon, do you not agree? A Saint Petersburg artisit! An artisit in the land of snow, an artist in the land of Finns, where all is wet, smooth, flat, pale, grey, and misty. These artists bear little resemblance to their Italian counterparts, as proud and fiery as Italy and its skies.” Gogol, 9. 14 According to Eleanor Clark in Rome and a Villa, one of the few Italian poets whose work centered on the city of Rome, Guiseppe Giacchino Belli (1791-1863) the connection between climate and psychic states inspired many of his sonnets. Gogol himself was a great admirer of Belli’s and heard him recite several of his sonnets in person. Clark, Eleanor. Rome and a Villa. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1974) 330-368. 15 Gogol, 553. “An unclean red-headed Capuchin monk, who suddenly blazed up into a light camel color in the sun.” Translation mine.
85 сплошным золотом от слившихся вместе жёлтых цветков, где блеща жаром раздутого угля
от пунцовых листов дикого мака.”16 The golden and crimson colors of the flowers convey the warmth that define the city, while the phrase “unending gold” of the flowers connotes the long history of Rome that brought about its name of “Eternal City.” The image of the Eternal City and its hot climate coalesce once more, at the end of the story, as Gogol references the images of fiery golden warmth again: “пред ним в чудной сиящей панораме предстал вечний город. Вся
светлая груда домов, церквей, куполов, остроконечий сильно освещена была блеском
понизившегося солнца.”17 The light, warmth and sunshine define the atmosphere of Gogol’s
Rome, giving a sense of an ever-present golden glow brought on by the city’s long history and glory. This sense of history and warmth inspire the creativity that artists in Gogol’s stories value so highly.
Gogol explicitly compares Rome and Petersburg in terms of artwork and creative power in the tale “Портрет.” This tale depicts the moral descent of Chartkov, a once talented art student who sells himself out to make money doing drawing room portraits for the wealthy.
Chartkov receives an invitation to see a former peer’s exhibit of artwork sent to Saint Petersburg from Rome, which is so esthetically successful that he reevaluates his choices motivated by the desire for material gain. While viewing the exhibit, Chartkov recalls that his acquaintance was so devoted to his art that he left behind everything dear to him in order to develop his talent in
Rome:
16 Gogol, 554. “Blazing with unending gold from the yellow flowers spilling over each other, shining with the heat of burning embers from the crimson petals of wild poppies.” Translation mine. 17 Gogol, 573. “The Eternal City appeared before him in a wondrous shining panorama. The entire brightly lit pile of buildings, churches, steeples, was powerfully illuminated by the rays of the setting sun.” Translation mine.
86 от ранних лет носил в себе страсть к искусству, с пламенной душой труженика погрузился в него всей душою своей, оторвался от друзей , от родных, от милых привычек и помчался туда, где в виду прекрасных небес спеет величавый рассадник искусств, - в тот чудный Рим, при имени которого так полно и сильно бьётся пламенное сердце художника. 18
The narrator suggests that the city itself carries the responsibility in part for the creation of sublime artwork. The city is a “vineyard” that grows and sustains artists, from their origins as tender plants into a well-aged wine. This imagery relates to the recurring theme of Rome in
“Рим”and Петербургские повести as a source of artistic inspiration. This passage also reveals something about the character of Chartkov’s former colleague: he values art above all else, even his own personal desires, as he sacrificed everything he held dear in his own life, including friends, family, and familiar habits, all for the sake of his art. Thus, the narrator implies that the creation of art stems not solely from the city one resides in, but from inner character. Whereas
Chartkov’s peer possessed this character, Chartkov himself did not, as he chose to stay in
Petersburg and use his artistic skill to reap financial, rather than spiritual, rewards.
Viewing the painting on display creates a transcendental experience for the audience, similar to the young prince’s response to the interior and exterior space of Rome.19 While Gogol barely describes the painting itself, he pays particular attention to the emotion and spirituality embodied by the painting, suggesting that the artist transferred his own emotions into his artwork by means of his brush: “С чувством не вольного изумления созерцали знатоки новую,
18 Gogol, 94. “Since an early age [he] had nourished a passion for art, immersing himself in it heart and soul with all the zeal of a devoted acolyte, cutting himself off from family, friends, and favourite pastimes to hasten to that vineyard of the arts which basks beneath glorious skies, the wondrous city of Rome, whose name alone sends a quiver through the ardent heart of every artist.” Gogol, 90.
87 невиданную кисть. … Но властительней всего видна была сила созданья, уже заключенная
в душе самого художника.” 20 The use of the word “кисть”- brush - and the phrase “сила
созданья” – power of creation - reference the often repeated phrase throughout “Рим” of the
“creation of the brush”. The emphasis on the power of creation here provides a variation on the narrator’s assertion throughout the text of “Рим” that part of the beauty of artwork lies in the underlying creative forces, not simply its superficial appearance.
In “Портрет” Gogol balances his observations on the connections between creativity and spirituality by exploring the more insidious possibilities of creative power in the painting of an
Asiatic moneylender. According to legend, the subject commissioned the work, claiming that a true likeness would allow his spirit to live forever. Upon the completion of this work, the creator of this portrait is transformed from a generous and kind man to a jealous and manipulative one.
The artist became convinced that his personal transformation resulted from the painting, which now embodied the demonic nature of the moneylender. Unlike the artwork designed in Rome, here the artist’s brush transformed the demonic, rather than the holy, into a tangible product.
“кисть его послужила дьявольским орудием.”21 Consequently, viewers – or owners - of this portrait become somehow possessed by the demonic power of the moneylender and are transformed into selfish, greedy, and generally unpleasant human beings. In the narrator's words:
“часть жизни ростовщика перешла в самом деле как-нибудь в портрет и тревожит теперь
19 This painting is based on the actual artwork by Aleksandr Ivanov, one of Gogol’s contemporaries and friend, who resided in Rome at the same time as Gogol. Ivanov’s painting contains a depiction of the mythological themes of Apollo, Hyacinthus, and Cyparissus. See Karlinsky, 190-191. 20 Gogol, 95-96. “With an awareness of the sublime idea of creation, the magnificent beauty of thought and the sublime enchantment of the master’s heavenly brush.” Gogol, 91. 21 Gogol, 465. “His brush had served as a tool for the devil.” Gogol, 110.
88 людей, внушая бесовские побуждения.”22 The suggestion that artwork created in Petersburg carries a demonic quality speaks to Gogol’s perception of the city itself. From his perspective, only in a city, devoid of spirituality and creativity, such as St. Petersburg, could an artist create a portrait that embodies the devil.23
These two contrary paintings symbolize the cities in which they were created and reflect
Gogol’s perception of each city. The demonic moneylender represents the mercantile aspect in
Saint Petersburg, fundamental to Peter the Great’s purpose in planning the city. A key factor in the location of his “Window on the West” was its accessibility to water routes to improve and increase trade with Western Europe. Similarly, the biblical motif of the painting from Rome by
Chartkov’s colleague symbolizes the religious foundation of Ancient Rome’s development into a holy center, aided by Peter the Apostle. Thus, it is through artwork that Gogol once again underscores his perception of Rome as a sacred ideal and Petersburg as its destructive antithesis.
The organic nature of Rome allows artists to interact with their surroundings and encourages them to reach a higher ideal. In contrast, the sterile quality of Saint Petersburg proves uninspiring, and drawing on these surroundings for inspiration, artists perform the function of the Italian architects who originally shaped the buildings in the city: they design beautiful, but meaningless art. This lack of meaning, from Gogol’s perspective is not at all benign, as in the case of
Chartkov, the devil himself inspires superficial art.
As I have discussed, spirituality and creativity shape urban experiences in Rome and
Petersburg and reveal underlying differences in Gogol’s perception of these cities. One final
22 Gogol, 465.
89 element proves particularly instrumental in defining Gogol’s approach to these cities: the tension between alienation and belonging and characters’ ability to resolve this opposition. In “Рим”, the prince’s relationship with his native city is filled with doubts and uneasiness. The prince’s return to Rome and his family estate initially suggest to the reader that he will feel “at home” in both these places. However, the prince does not receive the expected unconditional acceptance upon reaching his childhood home, perhaps in part because he remains the sole survivor of his family line. While a home typically symbolizes self and family, the prince endures conflicting feelings of familiarity and estrangement. On one hand, the prince feels as if he has returned to a place that he can call his own. On the other hand he feels a sense of emptiness upon returning to this house because of the many changes in appearance and in residents that have occurred. Aside from the noticeable absence of his father, the prince discovers that the house does not appear in reality as it does in his memories. All the objects so dear and well known to him as a child are old and seemingly speak to him of a childhood long since passed:
Грустное чувство овладело им, - чувство, понятное всякому после нескольких лет отсутствия домой, когда все что ни было кажется ещё старее, ещё пустее, и когда тягостно говорит всякий предмет, знаемый в детстве.24
Thus, the contrary emotions the prince experiences occurs in part from the discrepancy between his memory and reality and also from the knowledge that he has returned to his native land and the sensation that all his surroundings are unfamiliar. His process of regaining his bond to this space, however, remains unique to Gogol’s perception of Rome.
“Some portion of the money-lender’s life-force had in fact entered the portrait and was now preying on people, provoking diabolical delusions.” Gogol, 110. 23 Gogol could be referring to his own creative work here, which he believed the devil inspired. 24 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 548. “A sad feeling came over him, a feeling known to every person who has not been home for several years, when everything seems even older, even emptier, and when every object known from childhood speaks longingly.” Translation mine.
90 Despite the young prince’s feelings of alienation in his childhood home, a connection between him and his home exists. As we will see throughout the internal and external space of Rome, physical spaces do not exist separately from their history, as memories comprise one of the many layers of history occupying a space. Thus, the space of the house reflects the prince’s physical and symbolic inheritance:
Двадцатипятилетний юноша, римский князь, потомок фамилии, составлявший когда- то честь, гордость и бесславие средних веков, ныне пустынно догорающей в великолепном дворце исписанном фресками Гверчина и Карагчей, с потускневшими картиний галереей, с поменявшими штофами лазурными столами и поседевшим как лунь maestro di casa. Его-то увидали недавно римские улицы, несущего свои черные очи, метатели огней из-за перекинутого через плечо плаща, нос, очеркнутый античной линией, словную белизну лба и брошенный на него летучий шелковый локон. Он появился в Риме после пятнадцати лет отсутсвия, появился гордым юношею вместо ещё недавно бывшего дитяти.25
As this passage states, the prince inherits, along with his home, the fading memories of his family’s pride, honor, and ignominy that defined them as far back as the Middle Ages. The prince’s descent from a family line “потомок фамилии” seems to be reflected in the shape of his nose, emphasized by an ancient line “нос, очеркнутый античной линией.” Just as the family’s past burns remotely in the luxurious palace “ныне пустынно догорающей в великолепном
дворце,” the prince’s dark eyes continue this theme as they flash with fire “черные очи,
метатели огней.” The physical connections between the prince’s body and the house demonstrate that buildings define characters physically and personally.
25 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 536. “The twenty-five year old youth, a Roman prince, the descendent of a family comprised of sometime honor, pride, and denigration of the middle ages, now remotely burning away in a magnificent palace, decorated with Guercino and Caracci frescoes, with fading paint galleries, with changed damasks, azure tables, and a maestro di casa, whose hair had turned as gray as the moon. The Roman streets had seen him not too long ago, bearing his dark eyes, flames leaping from the cloak tossed over his shoulder, his nose defined by ancient lines, the near white of his
91 The prince furthers his kinship with the house and overcomes his initial disappointment in its changed appearance by taking ownership of the house on a symbolic level. To do so, he must reorganize the system of the house so that it reflects his preferences instead of his deceased father’s extravagant lifestyle. The old prince gathered all the luxuries necessary for an elegant appearance, which remained unused and poorly maintained: “Он держал огромную прислугу,
которая не получала никакой платы, ничего, кроме ливреи, и довольствовалась
подаяниями иностранцев, приходившись смотреть галерею.”26 The prince quickly rectifies the chaos, and resolves the different lifestyles between him and his father. In complete contrast to his father’s excesses, the young prince adopts a more modest and economical lifestyle:
“решился ограничивать себя во всём и вести жизнь со всею строгостью экономии.”27 He thus eliminates all but the most basic necessities of the household, selling the unused stable horses and releasing all the servants, with the exception of the elderly butler. The process of downsizing relates the theme of spirituality introduced during the prince’s visit to the church upon his return to Italy. Although the narrative does not explicitly connect the two events, the reduction of material pleasures suggests a desire to foster spiritual growth.
Relating to a space in terms of self-identity and spirituality influences the exterior, as much as the interior, sphere in Rome. Just as the prince’s home initially appears strange and unfamiliar, the streets seem nearly unrecognizable – foreign, in fact. Once more a stranger, the
forehead and the flying silken locks flung out behind him. He appeared in Rome after fifteen years of absence, he appeared a proud youth instead of the child he had been just recently.” Translation mine. 26 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 549. “He kept a large number of servants, who did not receive any salary, nothing, except for clothing, and were satisfied with tips from foreigners coming to see the gallery.” Translation mine. 27 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 549
92 young prince views Rome with the eyes of a tourist, specifically with the eyes of a foreigner
(иностранец), as he walks the streets, searching for familiar shapes:
Словом, он уединился совершенно, принялся рассматривать Рим и сделался в этом отношении подобен иностранцу, который сначала бывает поражен мелочной, неблестяшей его наружностью, испятнанными, темными домами, и с недоумением вопрошает, попадая из переулка в переулок: где же огромный древный Рим?28
The prince intentionally separates himself from the streets in order to examine the sights more clearly, as indicated by the first line “он уединился совершенно, принялся рассматривать
Рим.” In fact, he distances himself to the point that he can gaze upon the familiar sights with the neutrality of a foreigner. His gaze immediately focuses on the decaying and decrepit surfaces of all the buildings, all the while searching for ancient Rome “где же огромный древный Рим?”
The search for ancient Rome amidst all the decayed buildings recalls his spiritual quest begun in the church. Just as the hero must reunite with his spirituality, he must reconnect with the space of his native town, by discovering the layers of ancient Rome behind the dirt and grime of the contemporary structures.
As Freud writes in Civilization and Its Discontents, the physical space of a city, particularly one as ancient as Rome, preserves the past even as modern buildings cover ancient remains. Any given space, therefore, contains secrets of vanished buildings, deceased residents, and all the stories of previous peoples and places. This coexistence of past and present in a physical space mimics the preservation of memory in the human mind where “nothing that has once come into existence will have passed away and all the true earlier phases of development
“He made up his mind to restrict himself in all areas and lead his life on strictly limited finances.” Translation mine. 28 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 550.
93 continue to exist alongside the latest one.”29 The overlapping layers of past and present reverberate throughout the city, giving rise to a distinctly animate atmosphere within the urban setting and opening the possibility for an interactive relationship between the city spaces and residents, as living in a city becomes an exercise in experiencing its history.
The young prince meditates thus on the spaces of Rome, as he reacquaints himself with the city. As part of this process, he explores the history concealed behind the buildings, thus demonstrating the inherent parallel between the human mind and urban space:
мало-помалу из тесных переулков начинает выдвигаться древний Рим, где темной аркой, где мраморным карнизом, вделанным в стену, где порфировой потемневшей колонной, где фронтоном посреди вонючего рыбного рынка, где целым портиком перед нестаринной церковью, и, наконец, далеко, там, где оканчивается вовсе живущий город, громадно воздымается он среди тысячелетних плющей, алоэ и открытых равнин необьятным Колизеем, триумфальным и арками, останками необразимых цезарских дворцов, императорскими банями, храмами, гробницами, разнесенными по полям; и уже не видит иноземец нынешних тесних его улиц и переулков, весь объятый древним миром: в памяти его востают колоссальные образы цезарей; криками и плесками древней толпы поражается ухо……30
This passage reflects the coexistence of past and present within the space of Rome’s narrow streets. At first, the present state of buildings overwhelms the viewer, who sees only dull surfaces and decaying buildings. Walking along the streets brings about the hero’s awareness of the city as a living creature, as he defines an intangible spot where the living city ends and he
“In a word, he completely withdrew, took it upon himself to study Rome, and thus turned himself into a foreigner, who happens to be struck by trivial details, by the dull surfaces, by the stains, by the dark buildings, and who makes annoyed queries, as he moves from alley to alley, where is that immense ancient Rome?” Translation mine. 29 Freud, Sigmund, Civilization and Its Discontents. Trans. James Strachey. (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1961) 18. 30 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 550. “Little by little, from the dark alleyways, ancient Rome begins to rise up, where with a dark arch, with a marble cornice set in a wall, where with a darkened porphyry column, where with a pediment in the middle of a smelly fish market, where with a complete portico in front of new cathedral, and finally, far away, there, where the existing city completely ends, it arises enormous among thousand year old ivy, aloe and the open plains with the unenclosed Coliseum, with triumphal arches, remains of unimaginable Caesars' palaces, with imperial baths, tombs split in half, and already a foreignor will not see the now narrow alleys and
94 imagines before him the previous generations of the city. In this resurrection of the past, the physical space of the city merges with the prince’s mind as images of caesars and roars of a crowd appear within his memory: “в памяти его восстают”. The effect of the city’s past on the young prince’s memory reveals an intimate connection between the prince and the native town, as the city imparts its own recollections to the young prince. At the same time, this transfer of memory underscores the notion of the city as an animate being with the ability to reach out to other beings.
The process of walking throughout the city reflects the young prince’s lack of direction, so to speak, in his quest for identity. In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau delineates the importance of walking in an urban setting, writing “To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper. The moving about that the city multiplies and concentrates makes the city itself an immense social experience of lacking a place.”31 Whether aimless or purposeful, walking is a quest for meaning and an attempt to define an area. Thus, walking is “a space of enunciation”: walking is to the urban system is what the speech act is to the language. De Certeau furthers the metaphor between walking and a speech act, suggesting other similar relationships lie between the act of writing and the written text as well as between the “hand” (the touch and tale of the paintbrush) and the finished painting
(forms, colors, etc.)32 According to his notion, every form of creation, from writing to painting to architecture design – to expand his metaphor - becomes a speech act. This resonates with
Gogol’s portrayal of Rome as an animate being, as the city structures and artwork carry the
streets, the collossal images of the caesars will resurrect everything enclosed by the ancient world in his memory; the cries and splashes of the ancient crowds ring in his ear." Translation mine.
95 voices of their creators, granting the artists immortality, as suggested by the often repeated phrase “бессмертное создание кисти.”
The prince’s practice of walking as a form of enunciation opens him to experiencing Rome on a deeper level. By walking, he takes part in the process of artistic creation that defines Rome.
As he himself comes to participate in the defining qualities of Rome, he becomes aware of the generations of humanity that accompany the depth of art and architecture below the city’s surface. That is, his gaze shifts from the perfection of Rome’s interior and exterior spaces and focuses on the people who resided there during Rome’s long history:
Он видел, как здесь кипел человек, как каждый город говорил своею речью как у каждого города был целые томы истории, как разом возникли здесь все образы и виды гражданства правлений: волнующиеся республики сильных, непокорнных характеров и полновластные деспоты среди их.33
Again this passage emphasizes the animation, even humanity, of Rome with its ability to communicate. This city, like every city, spoke in its own language “как каждый город говорил
своею речью.” This passage is highly suggestive of the layers of time in Rome, expanding the city’s depth to include the diversity of people and identities within an urban area. The addition of people to the city’s texture creates the sensation of an ancient space that does not simply exist, but lives and breathes.
Gogol does not ever separate the human residents of Rome from the buildings: from his point of view, these two elements are inextricably intertwined. This connection proves most
31 de Certeau, 98. 32 de Certeau, 98. 33 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 551. “He saw that a person thrived here, that every city spoke its own language as every city had entire volumes of history, that at once all forms and types of human governments arose here: agitated republics of strong, rebellious characters and empowered despots among them.” Translation mine.
96 apparent in his descriptions of female citizens, as he turns to the very architecture to elaborate upon their physical features:
Тут женшины казались подобны зданьям в Италии: они или дворцы или лачужки, или красавицы или безобразные; середины нет между ними: хорошеньких нет. Он ими наслаждался в прекрасной поэме стихами, выбившимися из ряда других и насылавшими свежительную дрожь на душу.34
This passage describes the similar structure of women’s bodies to the physical space of Rome.
The close relationship in their form emphasizes the connection between the city and the residents that unifies all the entities and beings within Rome. While the similarity between architecture and
Roman women creates a grotesque image of the female body, it recalls the portrayal of Roman buildings and thereby the city discussed above.
Annunziata’s physical appearance, in particular, demonstrates the correspondence between women’s bodies and Roman architecture. Like the archways and columns, her face is a work of art that connotes ancient Roman sculpture:
Все напоминает в ней те античные времена, когда оживлялся мрамор и блистали скульптурные резцы. Густая смола волос тяжеловесной косою вознеслась в два кольца над головой и четырьма кудрями рассыпались по шее. Как ни поборотит она сияющий снег своего лица - образ ее весь отпечатлается в сердце. Станет ли профилем - благородством дивным дышит профиль, и мечется красота линий, каких не создавала кисть.35
34 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим," 556. “Here women seemed similar to the buildings in Italy: they were either palaces or shacks, beautiful or repellent; not one among them was in the middle, there were no just nice ones. He enjoyed them like a beautiful poem, verses that appeared from rows of other and sent down a refreshing rain onto the soul.” Translation mine. 35 Gogol, 541. “Everything about her recalls ancient times, when marble came to life and sculpting tools shone. The thick resin of her hair rose in two heavy braided rings above her head and four curls bounced along her neck. No matter how she turned the gleaming snow of her face – her entire image was imprinted upon your heart. Whether or not it becomes a profile – the profile breathes glorious nobility, and stirs the beauty of lines that no brush has ever created.” Translation mine.
97 While every aspect of her appearance recalls a sculpture or work of art, from the marblesque texture of her skin and her sculptured eyelashes to the fine lines of the profile, Gogol suggests that as a human her perfection surpasses the ideals found in artwork. The beauty of her lines is
“such as a brush did not create.” In other words, a divine, not a human, hand created her perfection.
The portrayal of women’s bodies as a visual esthetic suggests a transition in Gogol’s writing. Throughout his earlier works, particularly Вечера на хуторе близ Диканьки and
Миргород, Gogol typically describes corporeal features in a grotesque manner, exaggerating one or two features and using them as metonymy for the entire body. In “Вечер накануне Ивана
Купала,” (“St. John’s Eve”) Gogol underscores the terrifying appearance of Basavryuk, a demonic figure, by using his bristly brows to represent his entire facial expression: “когда
нахмурит он, бывало, свои щетинистые брови и пустит исподлобья такой взгляд.” 36 In another example, in “Повесть о том, как поссорились Иван Иванович с Иваном
Никифоровичем,” (“The Story of How Ivan Ivanovich Quarreled with Ivan Nikiforovich”)
Gogol differentiates the two Ivan's in terms of the resemblance between their head shape and radishes: “Голова у Ивана Ивановича похожа на редьку хвостом вниз; голова у Ивана
Никифоровича на редьку хвостом вверх. ”37 In both these examples, the delineation of a specific physical feature results in a grotesque and comic image of the character’s appearance.
36 Gogol, 41. “When he frowns, this expression causes his bristly eyebrows to take over his entire forehead.” Translation mine. 37 Gogol, 404. “The head of Ivan Ivanovich resembled a radish with the stem pointing down and the head of Ivan Nikiforovich resembled a radish with the stem pointing up.” Translation mine.
98 In the case of “Рим”, the parallel of women to buildings carries a grotesque quality, but does not create the comic effect of Gogol’s earlier works. Instead, this metaphor emphasizes the museum-like quality of the city, as the character becomes a piece of fine art like all the other buildings. One of the few characters not compared to Roman architecture is the gray-haired servant Peppe, the only servant to receive a detailed description. Rather, Gogol emphasizes
Peppe’s disparate body parts in a grotesque manner, as is typical for his Вечера на хуторе близ
Диканьки, during this character’s first appearance: “В это время выглянул из перекрестного
переулка огромный запачканный нос и, как большой топор, повинул над показавшимися
вслед за ними губами и всем лицом. Это был сам Пеппе.”38 The image of a nose coming around the corner before any other part of his body, so large that the lips and then the rest of face follow the nose around the corner creates an unbalanced perspective of Peppe’s nose, as well as his entire body, which apparently is not large enough to merit mention. The use of a nose as metonymy for the entire body refers back to the more extreme case in Gogol’s earlier tale “Нос”, set in Saint Petersburg when a nose actually takes on a life of its own and behaves like an independent individual.
Karlinsky suggests that Gogol’s portrayal of women as works of fine art in “Рим” exemplifies his objectification of women, a result of the author’s latent homosexuality and discomfort with women. From Karlinsky’s point of view, Annunziata blends into the architecture of Rome, objectifying her as a work of art, suggested by the description of her face as an object of Roman sculpture. While many interpret this as a metaphor for Gogol’s love for the
38 Gogol, 569. “At this time, between intersecting alleys peered an enormous, compacted nose, and, like a large ax, stuck out over the lips, with an entire face appearing behind it. This was Peppe.” Translation mine.
99 city, Karlinsky argues that a closer reading reveals Annunziata as even more lifeless and empty than the artistic creations decorating Rome.39 While Karlinsky correctly notes Gogol’s tendency to focus on male characters and difficulty in creating complex female characters, he fails to consider that the themes in “Рим” extend beyond Gogol’s love of the city. Gogol’s imagery of city life does not simply portray the fine art and architecture in Rome, but defines urban space as the overlapping of spaces, faces, time, and memories.
While the Prince, like Annunziata, connects with the city on a physical and psychological level, he nonetheless struggles with contradictory feelings of foreign and native identities. In
“Рим,” the prince’s struggle between alienation and belonging becomes clear during the carnival extravaganza that occurs shortly after his arrival. According to Bakhtin in Rabelais and His
World, the carnivalesque creates dialogue between people and eliminates the boundaries and divisions between social groups.40 Carnival laughter is particularly instrumental as it is “the laughter of all the people,” unites observers and participants alike, and “is ambivalent: it is gay, triumphant, and at the same time mocking, deriding. It asserts and denies, it buries and revives.”41
The dialogue between all city residents and between the prince and others characterizes the city of Rome and creates a united atmosphere among all residents, attempting to help those such as the prince torn between contradictory feelings of native and foreign identities.
The prince enters this carnivalesque dialogue only reluctantly, as he goes out in the streets, but refuses to wear a mask, thus reflecting his perception of himself as ambivalent. As a native Roman, he is hardly a foreigner, but having been out of the country for many years, he
39 Karlinsky, p.210. 40 Bakhtin, Mikhail, Rabelais and His World, 11-12.
100 does not feel entirely at home and thus chooses to maintain a level of distance: “Не желая
участвовать в карнавале, он не взял с собой ни маски, ни железной сетки на лицо.”42 The carnival participants attempt to draw the young prince into the celebration and thereby, Roman culture by covering him in flour. This act involves him in the carnival and symbolically masks him, thus integrating him into society. Uncomfortable with this level of participation, he hurries away to put on fresh clothes, thus symbolically separating himself from society once more:
Его пробудил крик: перед ним остановился громадная телега. Толпа находившихся в ней масок в розовых блузах, назвав его по имени, принялась качать в него мукой, сопровождая одним длинным восклицаньем: "У, у, у …" И в одну мунуту с ног до головы был он обсыпан белою пылью, при громком смехе всех обступивших его соседей. Весь белый, как снег, даже с белыми ресницами, князь побежал наскоро домой переодеться.43
The masking of the prince with flour speaks not only to the prince’s interaction with other
Italians and with the city, but also to the imagery of native versus foreign. Whereas he views himself as separate, others apparently do not. The masking brings him into the group and places him at the same level as other city residents. As Bakhtin writes regarding the role of carnivalesque masking: “The mask is connected with the joy of change and reincarnation, with gay relativity and with the merry negation of uniformity and similarity; it rejects conformity to oneself. The mask is related to transition, metamorphoses, the violation of natural boundaries, to mockery and
41 Bakhtin, Mikhail, Rabelais and His World, 11-12. 42 Gogol, “Рим,” 562-563. “Not wishing to participate in the carnival, he brought with him neither a mask, nor a metal net for his face.” Translation mine. 43 Gogol, “Рим,” 563. “A cry aroused him: in front of him an enormous cart stopped. The crowd inside it wore masks and pink blouses, having called him by name, they began to sprinkle flour on him, accompanying it with one long cry, ‘Ooo, ooo, ooo ….’ And in one minute, from head to toe, he was covered with white dust, while all the surrounding people laughed. Completely white, like snow, even with white eyelashed, the prince ran home as soon as possible to change his clothes.” Translation mine.
101 familiar nicknames.”44 The rejection of conformity and individualism in masking, as well as the notion of rebirth, reflects the experiences of the prince from the moment he re-enters Italy to his observation of the carnival, as he struggles to realize the merging of his individual and national identities, as well as his past history and present story.
By the end of “Рим,” the prince resolves his ambivalent position in relation to Roman society in a culmination of his spiritual and religious emotions that connect him with the physical space of the city. As the day of the carnival draws to a close, the sunset creates a golden glow upon the massive Roman architecture, symbolizing the spiritual and eternal qualities of the Italian capital. Gazing upon the skyline, the prince reacts to the heavenly creation of the sunset and finds himself emotionally fulfilled: “ещё торжественней и лучше, готовый погаснуть
небесный воздух. Боже, какой вид! Князь, объятый им, позабыл и себя, и красоту
Аннунциаты, и таинственную судьбу своего народа, и все, что ни есть на свете.”45 The sky causes the prince to forget all earthly concerns and enables him to bond with the city. The description of the city suggests that the prince’s attraction to the space is both spiritual and romantic. The “небесный воздух” suggests the spirituality of his emotions, whereas the phrase
“объятый им” connotes a romantic relationship between the prince and the city. As this imagery suggests, the city in this scene literally takes on the qualities of an eternal city, becoming a heavenly paradise and providing the prince with complete inner fulfillment. Thus, the actual
44 Bakhtin, pp.39-40. 45 Gogol, Nikolai "Рим", 574. “A nearly set, heavenly sky, more glorious and better. God, what a view! The prince, enraptured by it, forgot himself, and Annuziata’s beauty, and the mysterious fate of his people, and everything else in the world.” Translation mine.
102 space of the city, which includes the prince’s spiritual experiences and reactions to its artwork, enables the prince to resolve the tension between alienation and belonging.
Whereas the characters of the Петербургские повести suffer the same tension between alienation and belonging as the young prince, the lack of spirituality and artificial – or demonic - creativity exacts its toll as characters fail to connect to their physical surroundings. Akaky
Akakievich, of “Шинель,” feels ostracized from society, because he does not possess the social skills to connect with colleagues and peers. His distance from life in Saint Petersburg originates in his disinterest in other residents and daily happenings, demonstrated by his tendency to wander around the street completely unaware of others: “Ни один раз в жизни не обратил он
внимание на то, что делается и происходит всякий день на улице, на что, как известно,
всегда посмотрит его же брат, молодой чиновник.” 46 This passage indicates that Akaky
Akaievich’s public behavior is unusual on two counts: first, he fails to notice events on the street on a daily basis, and second, he does not behave like his fellow citizens, who continually observe their surroundings, especially in a public area, such as a street.
Even at home, by himself, Akaky Akakievich’s behavior separates him from all the other government clerks. Gogol describes at great length how all the other clerks socialize with friends, playing cards or drinking in the evening when they come home from work. In contrast, Akaky
Akakievich remains at home by himself, somehow physically incapable of socializing: “-словом,
46 Gogol, 124. “Not once in his life had he paid any attention to the daily happenings and going-ons in the street, which are always so keenly observed by his young colleagues in the service.” Gogol, 118.
103 даже тогда, когда всё стремится развлечься, - Акакий Акакиевич не предавался никакому
развлечению.”47
While some colleagues attempt to draw Akaky into their circle at one point, their invitation is motivated by their admiration of Akaky’s new overcoat, rather than a desire to forge a friendship. Thus, on a rare occasion when he does spend the evening with some co-workers at a party, Akaky finds himself no less alone than when he spent evenings by himself at the apartment. Unaccustomed to society and social graces, he does not know how to act at the party and cannot connect with any of the guests: “Всё это: шум, говор, и толпа людей, - всё это
было как-то чудно Акакию Акакиевичу. Он просто не знал, как ему быть, куда деть руки,
ноги, и всю фигуру свою.”48 Loneliness at such a festive party signals Akaky Akakievich’s distance from society and people in general. Akaky Akakievich’s failed attempts to enter into society repeat the tension between belonging and alienation that the young prince experiences in
“Рим.” The prince’s ability to resolve this tension at the end of the fragment reveals the forgiving nature of the Eternal City, whereas Akaky Akakievich’s inability to connect with society reflects the grotesque nature of Petersburg.
Akaky’s resolution to the tension between alienation and belonging reflects these disingenuous friendships, and Gogol’s emphatic portrayal of Petersburg as an artificial city: after the theft of his overcoat and his death, Akaky’s ghost wanders St. Petersburg, stealing overcoats
47 Gogol, 125. “That is to say, even at that hour when the rest of the world is avid for entertainment Akaky Akakievich would not permit himself any such frivolity.” Gogol, 120. 48 Gogol, 137. “All this: the noise, the chatter, and the numbers of people, was quite novel to Akaky Akakievich. He simply did not know where to put his hands, feet, and all his person.” Gogol, 132.
104 from the wealthy. This vengeful resolution does not truly fulfill Akaky’s spirit and the ghost eventually fades away to the outskirts of town, but does not ever disappear entirely.
The tension between belonging and alienation does not always carry the sentimentality of the young prince’s return home or the pathos of Akaky Akakievich’s futile attempts to make connections. In the case of “Записки сумашедшего,” (“Notes of a Madman”) the paranoia of
Aksenty Ivanov differentiates him from society in a humorous manner, as he sees and hears a world where animals speak and correspond with each other and he is not a menial clerk, but the exiled King of Spain. Gogol indicates Aksenty’s separation from society in the very beginning of the story, when he eavesdrops on two dogs gossiping in the street. This immediately creates the tension between foreign and belonging in the story, since the main character clearly exists in a different realm than the rest of society, but intends to become an important member of society while he advances from his allegedly important clerk position.
Aksenty embarks upon a mental quest to receive a higher position in society and receive the love of his superior’s daughter, calling to mind the quest for love and spiritual fulfillment in
“Рим”. The substitution of career development for spiritual fulfillment demonstrates Gogol’s perception of Saint Petersburg as a commercial and material city, for only in such a spiritually empty place are deeper rewards equated with financial gain and social prestige. The deceptive streets of Saint Petersburg resolve Aksenty’s quest in a manner that fits his crime of greed, so to speak. His imaginary self-perception as the King of Spain grants him the higher position of which he dreams, but, of course, this prestige exists only in his mind.
The streets serve as a catalyst for the lowly clerks’s hallucinations. The intensification of his insane perceptions causes an increase in the distance between himself and society in the
105 process of his attempts to integrate himself. When Aksenty realizes that “В Испании есть
король я,” this differentiates him from society as a foreigner and nobility and he attempts to disguise this image in public.49 Thus, strolling along the streets become an exercise in maintaining the tension between foreign and native and alienation and belonging. He “pretends” that he is a common Russian, and comforts himself that he is truly foreign and separate from the masses. To create this effect, he “lowers himself” and removes his hat when the Russian Tsar passes by him on the streets: “Ходил инкогнито по Невскому проспекту. Проезжал государь император.
Весь город снял шапки, и я также; однако же не подал никакого вида, что я испанский
король”.50 This tension between belonging and alienation on the streets recalls the carnival scene from “Rome” as the young prince finds himself in the same ambivalent space. However, as the prince’s walk along the streets eventually illuminates his own sensibilities, Aksenty’s perceived self-identity as King of Spain cannot truly fulfill him.
The lack of resolution for Akaky’s and Aksenty’s alienation in Saint Petersburg directly relates to Gogol’s perception of Russia’s “Window to the West.” Because Saint Petersburg is foreign, from Gogol’s perspective, or eccentric, in Lotman’s terminology, residents cannot help but feel alienated from society and of course, will never attain any sense of belonging within a city that itself is so disconnected from its nation. The overlap in scenes between “Rome” and the
Petersburg Tales highlights the common thread running through Gogolian urban experience – a quest for spiritual fulfillment, appreciation of creative expression and the desire to overcome
49 Gogol, 164. “Spain has a king. He has been found. I am this king.” Gogol, 172 50 Gogol, 166. “I walked incognito along Nevsky Prospect. His Majesty the Emperor rode past. The entire town doffer their hats and I did likewise, although I gave no sign that I was the king of Spain.” Gogol, 174.
106 feelings of alienation in society. Only in Rome, the ideal and eternal city, do characters receive the opportunity to realize contentment and fulfillment. As Gogol shows, life in a concentric city does not preclude tension; it simply offers the opportunity for spiritual fulfillment. Conversely, in an eccentric city such as Saint Petersburg, the settlement of tension proves as artificial as the city itself.
107 Paris, 1871 Perry-Casteñeda Library Map Collection, University of Texas Libraries
108 Chapter Four Revolution and Ritual: Neruda’s Pařížské obrázky and Povídky malostranské
Although Jan Neruda earned his place in Czech literature for his realist short story collection Povídky malostránské, (Prague Tales) he was also well-known in his time for his poetry and numerous feuilletons. He wrote many feuilletons regarding Prague and domestic issues, but after his first trip outside the Austrian Empire in 1863, Neruda made use of this genre to document his travels. Neruda produced the most extensive number of essays about Paris, published in a collection called Pařížské obrázky (Paris Images.)
These essays reflect the two months he spent in Paris from April 30th to June 20th, 1863, comprising detailed descriptions of the public spaces within Paris, such as store lined streets, open squares, and restaurants.1 The contents of Pařížské obrázky create a striking impression of Paris as an anonymous, impersonal, urban center. This characterization reflects the atmosphere of metropolises throughout the world, as well as, more significantly, the particular context of Neruda’s journey to Paris.
Ivan Pfaff in his essay “Nerudova cesta za Polskou revolucí“ (“Neruda’s Journey after the Polish Revolution”), illuminates the background of these essays. Neruda, already involved with the Czech Nationalist movement, traveled to Paris in the Spring of 1863
1 The “Pařížské obrázky,“ were published upon his return home in the journal Narodní list or The People’s Paper. A year later, these essays were published as an independent book, entitled Pařížské obrázky. Neruda eventually incorporated these essays in his volume of feuilletons Menší cesty or Minor Travels. More recently, the “Pařížské obrázky“ have been included into a posthumous collection of Neruda‘s essays, entitled Domov a Svět, published in 1941. In this volume, which I have used in researching this chapter, the Parisian essays are referred to as „Parížské feuilletony“. Rok Jana Nerudy v datech, obrayech, zápisech a poznámkách, sestavil Miloslav Novotný, Praha: Melantrich, 1952.
109 with the sole intention of immersing himself in European revolutionary society. Prior to this trip, Neruda was not unfamiliar with revolutionary movements: throughout the
1860s, Neruda was one of the foremost functionaries of the Czech democratic movement and one of the most active participants of its political activities. Neruda also strongly supported the Polish revolutionary movement to separate from Russia and according to
Pfaff, was one of the greatest, but most undervalued, commentators and contributors to the Polish revolutionary movement in progressive Czech society.
His countryman and close friend, J.V. Frič, who was heavily involved with the
Polish revolution, provided access into the world of European revolutionaries. In fact,
Neruda and Frič corresponded in secret for several months prior to Neruda‘s arrival, arranging their meeting in Paris. Once in Paris, Frič proved an invaluable connection for
Neruda: he obtained an apartment for Neruda in a neighborhood that leased space only to
Polish revolutionaries; he introduced Neruda to the city and his circle of friends; and he promised to assist him with the Czech nationalist movement to separate from the Austro-
Hungarian Empire. As his friendship and interaction with Frič suggests, Neruda’s time in
Paris was largely occupied by his focus on the revolutionary movement and the potential to enable an independent Prague and Czech nation.
The revolutionary context shaped the contents of Neruda’s Parisian essays: he could not portray his own social interactions with his revolutionary acquaintances since this could endanger or condemn everyone involved. As such, his Parisian essays accentuate the public sphere, including window displays and random pedestrians, but downplay the private sphere, leaving out the intimate details that animate a city. Because
110 of the emphasis on Parisian public space, the city appears impersonal, a typical and often desirable quality of a metropolis. In contrast, both the public and private spaces in
Neruda’s Povídky malostránské depict the familial community of the Habsburg Empire’s secondary city and disclose the personal lives of Malá Strana residents. As Prague’s urban other, Paris appears sometimes as a mirror image, other times as Prague’s metropolitan potential. Indeed, Neruda’s desire to restore Prague as a capital, not a secondary, city and re-center it within the imagined Czech nation underlies his Prague tales. While his particular circumstances within Paris contextualize his Parisian essays, they also informed his view of Paris as a typical and traditional metropolis, and his perception of Prague as an eccentric and provincial city. This chapter will explore
Neruda’s view of Paris as a progressive and impersonal urban center, and his depiction of
Prague as a relatively provincial community, by focusing on the common spaces of multi- functional roles of businesses, dining establishments and social interaction in Parížské obrázky and Povídky malostránské.
Neruda’s use of feuilletons and short stories furthers this characterization of Paris and Prague. Although Pařížské obrázky portray non-fictional events and Povídky malostranské revolve around fictional characters and happenings, the collections of feuilletons and short stories both comprise fragmented portrayals of places and people without an overarching narrative to weave together the separate threads. These genres allow the author to depict various cultural aspects from different perspectives, leaving the reader to create the connections between the fragments of, in this case, different spaces of a city. In both Pařížské obrázky and Povídky malostranské, the city itself unifies the
111 diverse tales, linking together uncommon spaces and people within the urban landscape.
The obvious differences between feuilletons and short stories enhance the reader’s perception of the distinctions between Paris and Prague. The anonymous nature of Paris, an enormous, sophisticated metropolis, translates well into the neutral descriptions of
Neruda’s travel essays. The closely-knit community of Prague, however, appears clearly in the characters and events guiding Neruda’s short stories. The genres highlight the image of Paris and Prague as two halves of a whole, one an impersonal and anonymous public space, and the other, an intimate community focused on the private sphere.
Neruda’s connection to revolutionary circles while in Paris also relates to the portrayal of Paris and Prague as two parts of a whole. His presence in the city implies that the French capital symbolized a more politically and commercially developed alternative to Prague. The issue of politics, for the reasons mentioned above, does not enter into Neruda’s Parisian essays. However, the business world, including everything from advertising, store locations, and window displays, receives significant attention.
Paris consists of cleverly phrased signs, carefully positioned figures advertising services, and arcades for strolling and shopping. Prague, in contrast, appears as a set of local dry goods stores dependent upon the neighborhood’s positive opinion for success. Thus, the imagery surrounding businesses provides the most striking contradiction between Paris and Prague.
Neruda depicts the sophisticated physical and cultural space that stores occupy in the Parisian urban landscape in „Jak oznamují a jak prodavají obchodníci pařižští“ (“How
Parisian Businessmen Advertise and Make Sales.”) The narrative demonstrates the
112 process of advertising products and attracting customers through an examination of window displays, store signs and the resulting relationship between stores and pedestrians. The ability of window displays to attract window-watchers and entice customers shapes one’s urban experience and plays a historical role in the development of urban culture. As Lewis Mumford notes in The Culture of Cities, smaller domestic spaces and labor-saving devices simplified household routines for middle-class women in the mid-nineteenth century. They spent their additional free time window-shopping and counter-shopping and consequently: “On a Saturday night in an industrial town the flow of people through the main shopping street is the principal form of recreation and drama.”2
Neruda emphasizes the commercial and cultural role of the displays within the
Parisian context. He notes that shopkeepers incorporate a variety of elements in order to attract the consumers: „Skulptura, maliřství, mechanika se spojují v jedno, aby pomáhaly lákat. Na boulevardu de Sebastopol je velký sklad rozličných mastí na kuří oka, a za sklem krámu je malé skupení automatní, naznačující divotvorné účinky.”3 In the first window, the passer-bys see a man holding a stick of ointment and bending over to apply it on the woman. A nearby dentist’s window showcases a row of false teeth sitting next to a woman’s face, with her mouth wide open and missing all the teeth from her upper jaw. The elaborate nature of these displays indicates their importance in the culture of
2 Mumford, Lewis. The Culture of Cities. (London: Harcourt Brace and Company, 1938) 262. 3 Neruda, “Jak ozamují a jak prodavají obchodníci pařížští,“ 33. “Sculpture, painting, and mechanics are combined into one, so as to enhance the allure. On Sebastopol Boulevard there is a large storehouse of various ointments for treating bunions, and behind the store glass is a small group of automated figures, pointing out its magical healing effects.” Translation mine.
113 city streets in Paris: they represent the contents or purpose of each store and must be sufficiently elaborate in order to allure customers.
The phrase “divotvorné účinky” (“magical (healing) effects”) in the description of these displays reveals their transformative power upon passer-bys on the city streets.
As a performance, the presence of the window figures opens a dialogue between the store and the pedestrians, and more broadly between buildings and people. The window displays, with their clear glass and arrangement of goods, provide a liminal space between outside and inside spaces, connecting the streets to the shops. These displays also serve as a transitional space between humans and buildings, causing pedestrians to pause and become window watchers as they engage with the display.
Printed signs contribute to the dialogue between the physical space of the shops and the passer-bys in a much more literal sense. Store signs depend upon actual language, thus creating paths of communication between people and stores. Indeed, the signs invite pedestrians to become customers, with the multilingual phrasing marking the store’s welcoming nature. The narrator observes:
Na velká oznámení nárožní nevydá se poměrně tolik peněz, tím vice na noční oznámení transparentní. Vetší plakáty přilepí se leda na krámy samy, nejhlavnějším lákadlem zůstává ale úprava a osvětlení krámů, pro cizince ovšem také časté „english spoken“, „se habla espanol”, „man sprecht deutsch.“4
Neruda specifies that only elite businesses advertise in this manner, since the cost of the sign does not create the desired profit. While the signs seem less effective than the
4 Neruda, “Jak ozamují a jak prodavají obchodníci pařížští,“ 35. “For a large corner sign, a proportional amount of money is not returned, this is even more so for a transparent night sign. Larger advertisements at best are stuck onto the buildings themselves, but the arrangement of the all too often “english spoken”, “se habla espanol”, “man spricht deutsch” and so on remains the most important lure for foreigners.” Translation mine.
114 window displays in attracting customers, they nonetheless develop a visual and linguistic dialogue between the shops and potential customers.
Language continues to play an important role in advertising for manufacturers. A product designer typically lacks a store for promoting items and therefore must depend on retail stores for advertisement. Customers perceive the presence of a company’s name on prominently displayed or ubiquitous products as an implied recommendation. As
Neruda notes: “Nejlepší odporucení jsou mimo krám nebo závod ovšem věci z krámu s firmou zhotovitelovou všude vystavené. Pařížan zná důležitost toho, když je obchodník všude a často jmenován, a daruje také mnohé na veřejné místnosti, co se z jeho výrobku hodí.“5 In this case, the language as much as the material presence of the items functions as an advertisement. Both factors influence the marketplace, as a frequently seen company name associates the firm with prestige, while the presence of their products in stores further this image, thus encouraging customers to purchase the goods.
The theme of material presence shaping one’s urban experience continues in
Neruda’s discussion of the physical form of stores, most notably the famous Parisian
“pasages” or arcades, the rows of covered stores. Walter Benjamin discusses the arcades in The Arcades Project as an architectural and cultural feature that defines Paris as the capital of the nineteenth century. According to Benjamin, two factors brought about the creation of the passages: the growth of the textile industry, which enabled stores to stock large amounts of merchandise, and iron construction, used in railroad tracks and the
5 “The best commendation other than a store or some other establishment are items from the shop with the maker’s firm placed everywhere. A Parisian knows the importance when a merchant is named everywhere and often, and gives much for a public display of what can be produced from his goods.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Jak ozamují a jak prodavají obchodníci pařížští,“ 35.
115 architecture of transitory spaces, such as passages, exhibition halls, and train stations. 6
Thus, the arcades embody much of the mechanical and industrial advances of the nineteenth century, which revolutionized spaces, as much as standards of living. As
Benjamin notes, the poetry of Charles Baudelaire reflects the creation of an ambiguous urban area, filled with conflicts and dualities. In the dualistic space of Baudelaire’s poetry, individuals seek refuge in a crowd, but feel isolated; arcades are “house no less than street;” and the prostitute is “seller and sold in one.”7 As a result of an industrialized and mechanical society, artwork becomes a product for consumers, not collectors, while literature contains increasingly fragmented images and “submits to montage in feuilleton.”8 Thus the fragmented nature of both Pařížské obrázky and Povídky malostranské corresponds to the trends of a modern society that projects images of society, without a clear overarching narrative.
As Benjamin’s writings suggests, the commercial and architectural developments of Paris shape pedestrian culture and the urban landscape. The descriptions of the pasages in Pařižské obrázky reflect the multifaceted uses of this space, noting their functional, mercantile, and aesthetic purposes:
Ještě větší náklad vede se ale na boulevard des Italiens, i průjezdů domovních je užito k elegantním výstavám. Rozsáhlé jako galerie v Palais Royal jsou blysknavé, zářící a bohaté ty chodby četných „pasáží“, průchodů to z ulice do ulice, krytých sklem a poskytujících nejpřímnější procházku za dešt‘ů až příliš častých.9
6 Benjamin, Walter. The Arcades Project. Trans. Howard Eiland and Kevin McLaughlin. (Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Pree of Harvard University Press, 1999) 3-4. 7 Benjamin, 10. 8 Benjamin, 13. 9 “An even larger road leads onto Italian Boulevard, and encompasses carriageways approaching elegant establishments. These corridors of numerous “pasages” are as shiny, radiant, and rich as the gallery in
116 From a functional perspective, the covered rows of shops protect passer-bys and window shoppers from any weather, thus enabling them to enjoy their walk and their shopping.
This relates to the mercantile purpose, as the protection from the elements encourages shoppers to spend their time and money in the arcade and also invites pedestrians to walk through during the frequent rains and on their way, visit some of the stores. From an aesthetic point of view, the covered glass stores provide a unique and beautiful architectural feature in Paris. Thus, the presence of the arcades defines the physical space of Paris, while shaping the daily habits of the city’s residents.
In the case of Prague, the existence of a business influences the individual, rather than the collective. The amount of time Neruda devotes to businesses in Prague reflects its distinctness from Paris: unlike the lengthy essay on Parisian businesses, only one short story from Neruda’s Povídky malostranské addresses the issue of retail shops: „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku“ (“How Mr. Vorel Broke in His Meerschaum.“) In this tale,
Neruda depicts the reasons underlying the survival and failure of businesses within a closely-knit community such as Malá Strana. As Neruda describes, the success of a business in Prague depends very little on advertising and much more on friendly contacts within the neighborhood. Mr. Vorel, a newcomer to this area, decides to open a flour shop where an apartment once existed. The neighbors scorn his shop, which eventually closes, and Mr. Vorel commits suicide.
Palais Royal is extensive. The arcades are passage-ways from street to street, covered by glass and rendering the most direct walk during the all too frequent rain.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Jak ozamují a jak prodavají obchodníci pařížští,“ 37.
117 Neruda opens the story„Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku“ with a description of the traditions surrounding urban space and the establishment of businesses in Malá
Strana. As he explains:
Tenkrát, když venkovan snad po dvacet let nebyl v Praze a pak Strahovskou branou přišel do Ostruhové ulice, byl zde kupec na témž rohu jako před dvaceti lety, pekař pod timž štítem a hokynař v tomtež domě. Tenkrát mělo vše svoje místo určené, zařídit najednou krupařství tam, kde bylo například dřív kupectví, patřilo mezi věci tak hloupé, že na to nikdo ani nepomyslil.10
This paragraph reveals the resistance of the city to change. As the narrator suggests, urban spaces, such as stores, exist as landmarks within the city. While new residents or remodeled building are a natural element of urban life, this passage suggests that an area rooted in tradition, such as Malá Strana, will prove unamenable to uprooting its customs.
The existence of shops outlasts not just people, but entire generations, as they are handed down within families. The narrator explains: “Krám se dědil z otce na syna, a přešel-li někdy přece na nějakého přistěhovalce z Prahy neb z venkova, nedívali se domorodci na tohoto přiliš cize, nebot’ se byl jaksi podrobil navyklému pořádku jejich a nepletl je novotami.”11 Thus, the success of a business, as the narrator establishes in the opening paragraphs of the tale, depends upon the support of the community and the
10 Neruda, „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,“ Povídky malostranské, 237. “In those days a man from the provinces who had not set foot in Prague for, say, twenty years could, entering Strahov Gate and proceeding to Spur Street, find the same shopkeeper on the same corner, the bakery under its old sign, the grocery in its original spot. Everything had its place, and the idea of setting up a flour shop where there had always been a grocery was so absurd as to be unthinkable”. Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “How Mr. Vorel Broke In His Meerschaum,” Prague Tales, 176. 11 Neruda, „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,“ 237-238. “Shops were handed down from father to son, and should one or another occasionally end up in the hands of a newcomer, whether from Prague or the provinces, the natives would accept him only grudgingly and provided he did not alter the time-honoured order of things and did not bewilder them with innovations.” Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “How Mr. Vorel Broke In His Meerschaum,” Prague Tales, 176-177.
118 continuation of tradition, rather than the successful advertising methods of attractive shop windows, community outreach and convenient locations as seen in Paris.
Just as shops shape the atmosphere of Paris, Mr. Vorel’s store alters the physical and cultural space of Malá Strana. First, Mr. Vorel breaks the tradition of shops on all the levels described by the narrator: he himself is a newcomer to Malá Strana and the store replaces a former apartment. That is, his flour shop is located in an area where there has never been a flour store or any sort of retail store at all. Furthermore, the success of his store depends upon the residents changing their behavior; they must choose to cease shopping at their regular flour shop and begin purchasing the grains at the new, albeit closer, store operated by a stranger.
As a shopkeeper, Mr. Vorel seems to understand the importance of community in
Malá Strana. As soon as he moves to the area, he begins cultivating relationships with other residents, but does not succeed. He visits the local pub every evening, but “Ostatní sobě ho ani nevšimali, ledaže kývli hlavou, když pozdravil.“12 At a celebration at the pub, the only two available champagne glasses are passed around the room and filled repeatedly, but Mr. Vorel alone never has a sip. This occurs despite the fact that „přec měl pan Vorel dnes zcela novou pěnovku, kovanou stříbrem, a byl si ji pořidil jen proto, aby vypadal jako soused.“13 While the logic of attempting to integrate himself by means
12 Neruda, „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,“ 239. “The rest of the company took no notice of him, barely acknowledging his greetings with a nod”. Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “How Mr. Vorel Broke In His Meerschaum,” Prague Tales, 178. 13 Neruda, „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,“ 239. “Mr. Vorel was smoking a brand-new meerschaum, which he has bought only to be neighborly”. Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “How Mr. Vorel Broke In His Meerschaum,” Prague Tales, 178.
119 of a pipe seems misdirected, his intention of becoming part of the community comes across clearly.
Initially, the community’s rejection of Vorel at the pub does not seem to carry over into his business. After a few hours, his first customer, Miss Poldýnka, visits his store. In his eagerness to please, he thanks her profusely for the sale, saying, „Poníženě ruku líbám! První počinek od krásné slečínky – to budu mít nějaké štěstí!“14 Whether because of the fact that Miss Poldýnka is neither particularly pretty, particularly young, or particularly single, as she is rumored to have been married four or five times, she becomes extremely offended and huffs off to her home, spreading word that Mr. Vorel‘s entire shop smells of pipe smoke – which in fact it does – and has contaminated all his products. She thus seals the fate of his store, becoming his first, last and only customer.
Mr. Vorel’s social and financial failure causes him to close his shop and commit suicide at the end of the store’s last day. The narrator informs the reader that the landowner plans to return the store back to its original function as an apartment, with the exact same appearance as before. The life and death of the flour shop symbolizes the life and death of a person. Just like ashes to ashes and dust to dust, everything returns to its original state, as the store vanishes into the thin air from which it first appeared and an apartment returns in its space.15
14 Neruda, „Jak si nakouřil pan Vorel pěnovku,“ 242. “I kiss your hand! My first sale and to a pretty young miss. That’s a good sign.” Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “How Mr. Vorel Broke In His Meerschaum,” Prague Tales, 180. 15 It is a widely held belief that Mr. Vorel is scorned because he is a Jew and Neruda is considered an anti- semite. However, I have found nothing in the text, scholarly articles, or Neruda’s essays to support the notion of Mr. Vorel as a Jew.
120 The case of Mr. Vorel’s store testifies to Malá Strana’s entrenchment in habit and ritual. The role of community and personal connections in the success of a business implies a provincial quality to this former capital of the Holy Roman Empire. The devotion to maintaining a close community in Prague simultaneously marks the city’s charm and its downfall. On the one hand, the loyalty to neighbors and the neighborhood represents an idealistic life in an urban environment. On the other hand, the refusal to accept newcomers suggests a narrow-minded approach associated with small towns and rural areas. This contrasts with Paris, where rows of shops form the Parisian landscape and along with advertisements, guide pedestrians along the streets. Whereas the commercial aspects of Prague reveal the malicious side of an otherwise charming community, the role of businesses in Paris displays the mercantile and consumer culture of a cosmopolitan city.
Eating establishments comprise another element of urban space that define and differentiate Paris and Prague. Purchasing, consuming and partaking in meals and entertainment provide a means to explore the rituals surrounding food, including what one eats, where a meal is digested, and with whom one interacts. Restaurants reveal both public and private traditions, as meal preferences reveal cultural practices as much as individual taste. In both Paris and Prague, dining rituals exemplify the impersonal nature of cosmopolitan Paris and the tightly knit communities of Prague.
Neruda’s feuilleton “Restaurace a kavárny“ exemplifies the anonymity of Parisian culture. The descriptions of various restaurants and cafes in Paris do not present any character sketches of waitstaff or customers, but do contain details about the types of
121 people populating these eateries, and French dining traditions. The food defines not only a given eating establishment or surrounding traditions, but French culture in general.
From Neruda’s perspective, the variety of ingredients and preparation methods represent the essence of French culture:
Každá krajina a množství měst přispívají k rozmanitosti a dokonalosti kuchyně. Gascogne a Lionnais dávají husy celé, Auvergne kůzlata, Limousin hovězinu, Bayonne uzené kýty, Languedoc, Brien, Provence sýry atd,; o vyhlašených nejrozmanitějších vínech, konaku atd. netřeba ani slova šíriti. Výtečné látky surové dovedli přípravou zdokonalovat a přetvořovat do nekonečna a vrcholem kuchařské slávy jejich jsou rozmanité filet de boeuf, fricandeaux, mayonnaises, především ale omáčky, obrazící takměř celou životní “poesii” Pařížanů.16
The unique ability of food preparation to embody the various regions of France lies at the heart of the feuilleton „Restaurace a kavárny.“ Although his focus in this essay ranges from specific foods to particular eateries, each combination of food, cost and clientele represents a window into Parisian culture and tradition.
The rituals surrounding food prove as integral to French dining as the food itself.
According to the narrator of „Restaurace a kavárny,“ routines, such as partaking of meals at very specific times, set the French dining experience apart from the rest of Europe. For this reason, Neruda idealizes and romanticizes French adherence to their eating rituals:
Něčemu nemohli Pařižané ostatní Evropu ale přece naučit, ač se tato dost sama namáhá, aby jim byla podobna, totiž pařižskému rozvrhu denního času. Jen šlechta zfrancouzštělá dovedla toho; cizinci do Pařiže přišlému je s počátku dosti nepříjemno vpraviti se do zvyku, že má být snídaně teprv as od jedenácté do jedné
16 “Every countryside and multitude of cities contribute to the diversity and perfection of cuisine. Gascogne and Lionnais serve a whole goose, Auvergne lamb, Limousin beef, Bayonne smoked leg of beef, Languedoc, Brien, Provence cheese and so on; additional words on the proclaimed most diverse wines, cognac and so on are not even needed. The best raw ingredients can be perfected and reshaped infinitely and at the peak of their cooking glory are diverse beef filets, fricandeaus, mayonnaises, and above all else the sauces, all but mirroring the complete “poetry” of Parisians’ life.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 42.
122 do jedné v poledne a oběd od paté do sedmé večer: mimo čas ten musí se dlouho čekat, nespokojíš-li se jídly studenými. Avšak veškeré zřizení je podle toho v Pařiži takové, že nutnost zvítězí a cizí zvyk stane se znenáhla vlastním zvykem.17
Thus, the prestige surrounding dining in France comes from the refusal to acknowledge or adapt to any other behavior and maintain one’s current traditions.
The variety of dining venues exemplifies the diversity of Parisian cuisine. Neruda examines several types of restaurants, with travelogue style details: he cites the type and quality of food available, the approximate cost, and the stereotypical diners. In a cremerie, for example, students and workers typically dine, and Neruda himself claims to have breakfasted there for half a franc. He notes the dining process: a host seats you at a small table, and a waiter attends to your needs, along with the demands of five other tables. The owner, at his discretion, provides free bread with meals.18 In a description of a café, Neruda focuses on the various methods for imbibing coffee, including the precise amounts of sugar or cognac that various patrons add to their beverage.19 The types of people at dining establishments similarly capture Neruda’s interest. The Grand Café
Paris, which he visits, “není ale kavárnou tříd vznešených, zde se scházejí jen mužové třídy měšt’anské a třeba i dělnické i děti s sebou.“20 These behavioral details, performed
17 “Not for anything could Parisians still teach the rest of Europe, although the continent itself takes pains to function according to the same daily plan as Paris does. Only the French aristocracy was skillful at this; from the beginning foreigners who arrived in Paris reluctantly became accustomed to the tradition of having breakfast from eleven to one in the afternoon and lunch from five to seven in the evening: after an hour one must wait a long time, regardless of whether or not you are content with cold food. However, any establishment in Paris functions according to this system and by necessity, local and foreign customs are pushed aside by this more powerful habit.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 43. 18 Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 45. 19 Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 46-47. 20 Grand Café Paris “is not at all a café of the majestic type, here meet men of the merchant class and even the working class, bringing their wives and children with them.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 47.
123 in public and accessible to all observers, substitute for personal experiences with French people, and a more intimate representation of the culture. Instead, these descriptions convey the potential for an individual to exist only as part of a crowd in a metropolis.
One of the few personal elements associated with Neruda’s dining experience appears in the owner’s name of his favorite cremerie – Duval. Neruda alludes to the comedic playwright from the turn of the nineteenth century, Alexandre Duval (1767-
1842), noting that this well-known name in France connotes philosophy, literature and drama. 21 Neruda’s interest in Duval calls to mind his involvement with European revolutionaries and Czech nationalism. Duval, like Neruda, wrote at a time when his nation was controlled by the monarchy. His comedic plays, such as The Wanderer: or,
The Rights of Hospitality and Charles the Second: or The Merry Monarch, were most popular following Napoleon’s fall and the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy.22
Although Neruda does not elaborate enough on Duval to develop any specific theories of parallel situations, this reference reminds the reader of the context of his Parisian essays and the need to maintain his personal contacts’ anonymity. Furthermore, the sudden animation and hint of personal detail in the cremerie owner’s name, which fails to inform the reader in any way of the owner’s actual character, draws attention to Neruda’s constraints on representing private space in Paris and the need to focus on the public sphere in his writing.
21 Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 45. 22 Bates, Alfred, ed. The Drama: Its History, Literature and Influence on Civilization, vol. 9. London: Historical Publishing Company, 1906. 1-10. June 2005 http://www.theatrehistory.com/french/romanticism001.html.
124 For the most part, in his Parisian essays, the emphasis on public space relates to his representation of Paris of a bustling urban center, where masses of people reside, and the individual exists unrecognized. In the case of dining establishments, the lack of personal detail leaves a gaping hole amidst the detached lists of pastries and beverages.
However, the portrayal of café-chantants, where a singer entertains diners, partially bridges the gap between public and private space in his Parisian essays. In this scene,
Neruda focuses on the performance of a particular singer and the reaction of the audience, thus providing a window into the personal experience of each side. As the author enters the cafe, a young woman begins to sing on stage and attracts his attention:
Slečna zpívá poněkud slabým a neohebným hlasem rozmarnou písen. Zpěvačkou slečna není, posunky její jsou ale tak roztomilé, rozmar tak nenucený, že pochopíme, proč je i mimo krásu svou oblíbena. Po ukončené písni nepřestává ani potlesk, blondýnka se kloní a stereotypní úsměv na tvářích její družek stává se vždy nucenější;23
This passage breaks away from Neruda’s lists of available foods and their costs and demonstrates the importance of atmosphere and human interaction. The young woman’s performance is not perfect, but the audience appreciates her nonetheless. The reader suspects, on the other hand, that her friends are insincere in their admiration as their
“stereotypical smiles” become “forced.” The revelation of human flaws provides a momentary glimpse into the private lives of Parisians even within the larger context of dining in a public space.
23 “A woman sings a humorous song in a somewhat weak and uninflected voice. The woman is not a professional singer, her gestures are so lovely, her mood is so free, that we understand why she is popular, for reasons other than her beauty. The applause at the end of the song doesn’t stop, the blond woman curtseys and the stereotypical smile on the faces of her friends become forced.” Translation mine. Neruda, “Restaurace a kavárny,” 50.
125 Similar to the Parisian essays, Neruda’s tales set in Prague eating establishments focus on the rituals of eating. However, unlike the disconnected interactions with people in Paris, Neruda’s representations of eating rituals in Prague pay attention to how these rituals shape the daily lives of residents and define the social culture of the city. In
Prague, the primary eating establishment is a pub, where, in Neruda’s portrayal, more drinking and gossiping occurs than eating. As in Paris, very specific habits are associated with each pub – including which people visit the pub, what time they arrive, and where they sit. The rituals, clearly respected by all locals, provide only the structure for the social interaction within the pub. Conversation with long-time friends and neighbors, rather than consuming food and beverages, motivates the majority of guests.
In Povídky malostránské, in the tale „Pan Ryšánek a Pan Schlegl“ („Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegl“) the plot revolves around the break in tradition at a local pub, juxtaposting ritual with change. Similar to his essay on Parisian eateries, Neruda begins this short story by describing the traditions surrounding a particular pub, Steinetz’s or “U
Stajniců.“ During the present time, the author notes, a random mix of passers-by visit this pub, never returning again. Therefore, all local residents avoid the place. Many years ago, a different situation existed at U Stajniců. The pub „byl to malostranský
Olymp, kde se schazeli malostranští bohové … Když postáli někteří ti štajnicovští hosté chvilku spolu venku na chodníku, pozdravil je každý kolemjdoucí občan, znal je.“24 The tale takes place during this time, when the same people visit this pub regularly, and they
24 Neruda, „Pan Ryšánek a pan Schlegl“, 144-145. “it was the Olympus of Malá Strana, the meeting place of the local gods… Whenever a group of the Steinitz regulars went outside for a chat, they were greeted by each and every passer-by. Everyone knew them.” Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel,” Prague Tales, 109.
126 are well-known by everyone else residing within the neighborhood. The sense of community within the pub and the neighborhood lies at the heart of Neruda‘s portrayal of
Malá Strana and Prague.
Rituals of seating and social interaction define the culture within the pub. As the narrator informs us, the two main characters arrive at the exact same time, sit at the exact same table, and position themselves to face the exact same direction every evening:
V třetím tom okně od vchodu vpravo seděli všeobecně vážení občané pan Ryšánek a pan Schlegl den co den navečer vždy od šesti do osmi. Místo jejich bylo vždy pro ně prázdno; aby se byl snad někdo jiný odvážil zasednout kdy místo někomu navyklé, to patřilo vůbec k věcem, jež řádný a mravný Malostranák byl by od sebe odmítl rozhodně co přímou nemožnost, poněvadž – nu poněvadž se to nedalo ani myslet. Místo zrovna u okna zůstalo vždy prázdno, pan Schlegl seděl na tom konci podkůvky, který je blíž vchodu, pan Rýšánek na konci přotějším, loket od sebe. Oba seděli vždy odvráceni od okna, a tedy napolo také odvráceni od stolku i od sebe, a dívali se na kulečník; k stolku se obrátili, jen když se chtěli napít nebo dýmku si nacpat. Jedenáct let jíž zasedali tak den co den. A po těch jedenáct let nepromluvili na sebe ani slova, ba ani si jeden druhého nevšimnul.25
As the author indicates, adherence to cultural traditions forms the basis for one’s daily existence. In the case of pub, these rituals prove particularly relevant, as the behavior becomes so ingrained, it is “unthinkable” for a stranger to enter this bar, much less sit in one’s of the regulars’ seats.
25 Neruda, „Pan Ryšánek a pan Schlegl,“ 148. “Every evening from six to eight the third table was invariably occupied by the universally respected Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel. Their places were always kept for them. The idea that someone might venture to take the seat of a regular guest was something the fine, upstanding citizens of Malá Strana rejected out of hand, because – well, because it was simply unthinkable. The place by the window was always vacant; Mr. Ryšánek sat at the end of the horseshoe closer to the entrance; Mr. Schlegel opposite him, an arm‘s length away. They both sat with their backs to the window and hence partly turned away from the table and each other, their eyes on the billiard match; the only time they turned back to the table was when they wanted to take a sip or fill a pipe. For eleven years, they had sat thus, day in and day out, and in all those eleven years they had never said a single word to each other, never taken the slightest notice of each other. Neruda, Trans. Michael Henry Heim, “Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel,” Prague Tales, 112-113.
127 This focus on ritualized behavior within the pub sets up the story’s plot line: for eleven years, Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel sit next to each other in the pub without any form of interaction. One day, Mr. Ryšánek becomes seriously ill and does not visit the pub for several months. Upon his return, Mr. Schlegel speaks to him, offering him some tobacco and from that moment on, the two elderly men converse at their shared table.
This concluding event contrasts the themes of tradition and change within the tale. While certain things do change, such as the relationship between Mr. Ryšánek and Mr. Schlegel, and the types of visitors to U Stajniců, these changes merely pave the way for the creation of new traditions.
The role of socializing with friends and neighbors in Prague restaurants relates to an overall theme of a tightly knit community within the neighborhood. In Malá Strana, residents exist primarily in the private sphere, familiar with their neighbors’ health issues and long-standing quarrels, even when they visit a public space, such as pub. This theme runs throughout many of Neruda’s Povídky Malostranské, predominant particularly in local pubs, where the neighbors welcome each other, but scorn strangers. This theme of intimate relationships, even in the public spheres, run throughout Malostranské povídky, unifying the stories and defining Prague as a city. In contrast, Paris enables anonymity in any space, often lending it an impersonal quality. As Lewis Mumford notes, this benefits certain groups of people: “the advantages of the metropolis as a hiding place … is not the least of its attractions to the visitors who swarm in from other parts of the country. If one has anything to conceal it is among a million other people.”26 In the case of Neruda and
26 Mumford, 262.
128 his journey to meet Frič and other revolutionaries in Paris, this certainly seems an appealing quality.
The emphasis on the public sphere in Pařížské obrázky occurs in part because of
Neruda’s need to conceal his connections with revolutionary circles and in part because of the anonymous, impersonal nature of the capital of the nineteenth century, in
Benjamin’s terms. Neruda does manage to incorporate some elements of the French private sphere, addressing the issue of Parisian family and community in the feuilleton
„Mosaika lídu a života“ (“Mosaic of People and Lives.”) In this essay, individuals wandering through a public square inspire the narrator to meditate on the more personal cultural practices of family life. The image of a whirlpool runs throughout the essay, symbolizing both Neruda’s physical location in the city square and his literary technique.
The physical space mimics a whirlpool: several buildings surround the square, marking the vortex of the whirlpool. Several wide boulevards approach the square and terminate in front of it, representing streams of water being sucked into the whirpool. The confusion and swirling of the whirpool refers to the eclectic assortment of individuals portrayed in this tale, as they anonymously enter into the space of Neruda’s text. This metaphor serves the author’s purpose well, as the anonymity allows him to comment on
Parisians in a public, rather than personal context. Furthermore, the image of individuals swirling around him enables him to jump from one subject or individual to another, with the space of the square serving as the only unifying factor.
Neruda suggests from the very beginning of this essay that his purpose is to examine the anonymous strangers and unearth the intimate details of their lives. As he
129 states in the introduction, sometimes there are problems in the flow of life: „Někdy se ten proud pařížkého života zarazí o překázku a nastane vír.“27 The narrator pauses in front of this whirlpool and seizes whatever aspects of Parisian life appear: „Zastavme se, uzříme kousek pařížského života, barevnou pěnu na vívících vlnách.”28 The examination of random people allows Neruda to move away from the public sphere of commerce and eating establishments and reveal his deeper knowledge of Parisian culture without compromising his revolutionary circle. His somewhat intimate observations jar with the context of his essay: in a space where the content should be most impersonal, as he observes random strangers strolling through the square, he expounds in the most detail of any of his essays on the private habits of Parisians.
In his discussion on French traditions regarding families, Neruda does not disguise his disapproval of the cultural distance between city and country in France and the emotional reserve between French mothers and their children. Specifically, he criticizes the process of wet-nurses, writing:“Dítě pařížské nesezná z rodinného života mnoho. Sotvaže narozeno donese se některého dopůldne na mairii okresní, kde již čekají venkovské kojné. Ouřadně děje se zápis a úmluva, pak sebere kojná dítě, a rodiče sobě píší pro svého polovičního divocha třeba teprve po třech letech.“29 A mother‘s refusal to nurse her own child represents an emotional rejection of her offspring and isolates a
27 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“ Domov a Svět, 26. “Sometimes the flow of Parisian life hits an obstacle and turns into a whirlpool,” Translation mine. 28 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“ 27. “We will stop, observe a chunk of Parisian life with colored foam on swirling waves.“ Translation mine. 29 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“ 30. “Parisian children don’t know much from their native life. Barely born, they are carried sometimes a half day to the countryside, where a provincial wet nurse awaits them. Officially, the process arranges the registration, selects a wet nurse, and parents send for their half savage child after three years”. Translation mine.
130 child from his or her own community. This results in a disconnected sense of community and even of nation. As Neruda states, children raised by wet-nurses “don’t know much from their native life,” with the word “native” referring both to immediate family and the city of their birth. The issue of place also concerns Neruda, as children return to Paris from the country “half-savage,” speaking to a cultural distance between French city and country, although the author fails to pinpoint whether the exact nature of the children’s wildness lies in their appearance, behavior, or mentality. While this statement initially seems critical of the countryside, Neruda’s intent here is to criticize the parenting and the savageness may also refer to a child who has been living as an animal – fed, but not disciplined or loved. Thus, the practice of sending children to wet-nurses in the countryside indicates a divide in Paris between generations, families and locations.
This issue of families leads to a rare instance of comparison between French and
Czech culture, when Neruda turns to Czech mothers as paragons of familial devotion. A
Czech mother, who conveniently appears in the whirlpool of Parisian life, enables Neruda to further his critique of Parisian parent-child relationships. He does not make an explicit comparison, but simply comments, rather abruptly, on the close relationship between
Czech mothers and their children: „Jaký to rozdíl naproti našim matkám českým! Jak mne dojala mezi matkami parížkami mladá jedna matka česká, která, právě meškajíc v Paříži, kapesní hodinky své, ač jí šly naproti pařížským o hodinu napřed, přece podle těchto neupravila, jen aby věděla každou minutu, co její děti v Praze činí.“30 The
30 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“ 31. “What a difference from our Czech mothers! How it made me weep to see a young Czech mother amidst the Parisian mothers. Dwelling for the time being in Paris, she set her pocket watch against Parisian time,
131 implication of this passage is that Czech mothers carry such affection for their children, that they remain bonded to them even when traveling in a different country. Conversely,
Parisian mothers send their babies away with a wet-nurse, showing little interest in them until they are weaned. Through the content of this passage, Neruda demonstrates his allegiance to the literal and figurative Czech mother, or, in other words, the Czech nation.
Despite his appreciation of French culture seen in other essays, this brief comparison between French and Czech parents, demonstrates the author’s prioritization of blood relations, which may be understood in the sense of an immediate family or an entire nation.
Neruda’s critique of French child-rearing transitions from the judgmental to superficial, as he expounds on the unpleasant physical appearance of city children and their mothers. The deficiences in Parisian child-rearing and Parisian culture manifest themselves in the physical appearance of women and children. Dropping the “half- savage” theme, the narrator notes that children returning from the countryside are the most beautiful and healthy in the world, but after spending time in the city, they quickly lose their good looks: „Zdrávo se vrátí dítě z venkova, obdrží nejkrásnější šat, nejvhodnější frisuru a tak se stane, že cizinec nevidí v žádném městě tolik krásných dětí jako v Pařiži. Později z té krásy trochu vyrostou.“31 This passage criticizes the adults rather than the children: Parisian youth dress in fine clothes and possess the good health
keeping it incorrect, so that she knew every minute what her children in Prague were doing!”. Translation mine. 31 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“31. “The children return from the countryside healthy, get the most beautiful clothing, the best fitting frisur, and it happens that a foreignor will not see in any other place such beautiful children as in Paris. Later, they grow out of this beauty.” Translation mine.
132 gained in the countryside, ideally merging the two opposites. Only later, when they transform into adults – parents even – do they lose their beauty, and symbolically, their connection to the countryside.
The physical appearance of women similarly represents their flawed mothering.
Neruda describes French women in masculine terms, referring to them not simply as ugly, but less attractive than men, and with heavy mustaches. He writes: „V celku jsem viděl mnohem více krásných mužů než žen…Fotografie Pařižanky je věc mrtvá, protože originál, jakmile má okámžik tiše stát, všechen půvab ztrácí. Vzácnosti u nás, všedností v Paříži jsou knírky u ženských, které sice často nejsou „lehké“ jež ale Pařížanka krásně nosit umí.“32 Their second to men attractiveness and mustaches suggest the women are shadows of men – not their equals and lacking in their own identifying qualities. The masculine elements of women’s appearance reflects the ineptitude of French women as mothers, while hinting at a larger cultural issue of a nation without maternal figures to raise the youth and pass on traditions.
While the whirlpool of anonymous people seems random at first, connections, such as the theme of motherhood and connection to one’s native land develops as a theme in the myriad of people passing though the square. Neruda attempts to delve more deeply into French lifestyles through his whirlpool metaphor, but his commentary on physical appearances proves most revealing. The negation of the maternal qualities of women in
32 Neruda, „Mosaika lidu a života,“ 31. “In general, I saw much more attractive men than women. A photograph of a Parisian woman is a dead thing, because the original, as soon as she has a moment, will become still and lose all grace. A rarity in our country, mustachious for women are so common as to be banal. These mustachios frequently are not “light”, but only a Parisian women can wear them well.” Translation mine.
133 their behavior and appearances demonstrates his ambivalence about the French nation and his dedication to the Czech nation. Additionally, the connection between maternal distance from children and the masculine physical appearance of women suggest that cosmetic appearances often reflect deeper cultural issues. Threads of this relationship between superficial appearances and cultural traditions appear in Neruda’s other essays, as in the case of restaurants reflecting dining traditions and businesses shaping the layout of streets and guiding the path of pedestrians. However, this relationship comes across most clearly in the case of women and their families.
While the physical appearances of individuals in Pařižské obrázky reflect
Neruda’s perspective on deeper cultural values, the physiogonomy of characters in
Povídky Malostranské reveal their internal qualities. In „Figurky”, when Dr. Krumlovský moves into his new tenement building, he makes assumptions –some of them inaccurate - about his neighbors based on their appearances. As he examines the facial features of Pan
Augusta, an artist, he notes: „Muž je zavalitý, krevnatého obličeje, modrých, vodnatých očí, jako by plavaly ve slzách. Opět tak upřímné očí! Ale takováhle upřímnost vodnatých očí bývá také od chlastu – jsem znalec lidí -. A svrchní pysk má tlustý, každý piják má svrchní pysk tlustý.“33 Based on Pan Augusta’s heavy-set body, ruddy face, and watery blue eyes, Dr. Krumlovský’s deduces that Pan Augusta must be a drinker as he has
33 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 332. “The man was heavy-set with a ruddy face and blue eyes that were as watery as if swimming in tears. Oh, the candour they radiated! Though in my experience – and I am an excellent judge of people – the candour of watery eyes can also come from drink. Besides, he had a fat upper lip, and all drinkers have fat upper lips”. Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Jan Neruda, “Figures,” 249.
134 watery blue eyes as well as a fat upper lip, thus introducing the illogical, albeit comedic, descriptions that characterize Krumlovský’s narrative.
Dr. Krumlovský relies upon his neighbors physical appearance to determine his career. He struggles to say something flattering and positive to his neighbor and spontaneously decides he is a musician: „Umělec – vodnaté oči, krevnatá tvář, masitá ruka – vsázím se, že má na koncích prstů mozoly, nevidím tam, ale on musí mít na koncích prstů mozoly,hraje kontrabas – jsem znalec lidí.“34 Krumlovský quickly finds out his mistake when he comments on his deduction, causing Augusta to laugh hysterically until the landlady explains, „Pan Augusta je malíř.”35
Although the narrator’s deductions based on his neighbors appearances prove flawed, his commentary demonstrates the constant dialogue that occurs between individuals on a visual level. This potentially occurs in social situations, when making assumptions about a person based on their appearance, or, for example, in a tenement building, where one might easily observe their neighbors. In “Figurky”, this possibility becomes reality when Pan Augusta informs Krumlovský of the opportunity for them to look into each other‘s rooms: „Bydlíme tamhle v pravém dvorském křidle, jako vy zde v levém, budem si vidět zrovna do oken.“36 The ability for them to view each other’s room through their windows symbolizes a type of social interaction that occurs between
34 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 332. “An artist with watery eyes, a ruddy complexion, and fleshy hands – though I bet he had calluses on his fingers. I can’t see them, but he must have: he plays the double bass, yes, I’m certain of it, and I’m an excellent judge of people.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Jan Neruda, “Figures,” 249. 35 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 333. “Mr. Augusta is a painter.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Jan Neruda, “Figures,” 250. 36 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 333. “We live in the right wing, the one opposite yours. We can look into each other’s windows.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Jan Neruda, “Figures,” 250.
135 neighbors. At the same time, it implies that the artist, a type of documenter by nature, scrutinizes his surroundings with the same attention to detail that Krumlovský does, for the purpose of his own work.
The assumptions and interactions between neighbors creates a humorous effect for an uneasy living situation. The closeness of neighbors, and family, also demonstrates the constant private sphere of Prague culture that contrasts with Paris. In Paris, Neruda faults families for sending their children away to the countryside to be raised by wet- nurses. In community-focused Prague, not just families, but also neighbors live on top of each other. In “Figurky,” the close quarters, open windows, and natural inquisitiveness places neighbors within the same bounds as family members. When Krumlovský first moves into the tenement home, his landlady admires his soft bed so much that she lies down on it. She then spreads the word to all the other residents of the tenement building, so that one by one, they all stop by to test out the magnificent bed. The lack of privacy does not always bring about such humorous situations. When Pan August beats his son,
Pepík, everyone hears him crying and shortly after knows exactly why his father punished him: “Pepík byl nesmírně bit, řval, až se domem rozlehalo. Ptám se konduktorky, co udělal. Vlastně nic, koupil si ořechy, otec mu sněd – “nikdo by neuvěřil, jak ten muž je mlsný!” -, Pepík se bránil, otec mu natlouk.”37 Regardless of Pan
Augusta’s motivations for beating his son, the common knowledge of the events
37 Neruda, Povídky malostranské, 357. “Pepík got an awful thrashing today; his screams echoed through the house. I asked the guard’s wife what he had done. Nothing, really. He bought some nuts, his father started eating them – ‘You wouldn’t believe what that man can eat!’ – and when Pepík tried to stop him Papa gave him a thrashing.” Trans. Michael Henry Heim. Jan Neruda, “Figures,” 272.
136 surrounding the son’s beating speaks to the physical and personal intimacy of residents in the house.
In Povídky Malostranské the visual and verbal dialogue between Dr. Krumlovský and his neighbors develops the intimate sense of community that defines Neruda’s
Prague, while it contributes to the comic aspects of the tales. In contrast, the physical descriptions of individuals in Pařížské obrázky reflect the physical and emotional distance present in Parisian family relationships. This difference leads to the distinction between Neruda’s representations of Prague and Paris. Life in Prague embodies the social interaction of an intimate community, whereas Parisian life embraces the anonymity of an impersonal metropolis. This imagery same imagery reflects Neruda’s perception of
Paris as a traditional urban center, and Prague as an eccentric space. However, as Neruda emphasizes the Czech community within Prague, as a means of re-centering the city within the imagined Czech nation, he looks to Paris not simply as Prague’s other, but as its possibility.
137 Conclusion Eccentric Perspectives
In Astrodynamics, eccentricity refers to a circular planetary orbit for which Earth is outside the center of the rotation. In practical implications, as an observer standing on
Earth tracks a planet across the sky, the orb seems to dip below the horizon, beyond the observer’s gaze. At first, astronomers attributed the erratic patterns to a non-circular planetary orbit. Later, Claudius Ptolemy, an astronomer from approximately 150 AD, discovered the position of Earth in relation to the tracked planet, not the actual planetary orbit, determined the seeming dip below the horizon. In the early seventeenth century,
Galileo used this theory to assert that the Sun, not Earth, sat at the center of the Solar
System.1 In The Universe of the Mind, Lotman alludes to the astronomical definition of eccentricity, writing: “a city can also be placed eccentrically to its earth, beyond its boundaries.”2 Thus, much like an eccentric orbit, an eccentric city depends upon the viewers’ perspective: it only appears atypical if the point of observation is off-center. In analyzing the literary representations of St. Petersburg and Prague, we must consider that the portrayal of a city as eccentric stems not from the space of the city alone, but depends also upon the authorial perspective.
Due to the influence of perspective, and as my analysis of Петербургские
1 “People in the History of Astronomy.” Astronomy! Reach for the Stars. 2001. Astronomy! Reach for the Stars. 16 October 2005 < http://www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/Launchpad/4515/HISTORY.html#Galileo>. "Ptolemaic System.” The Galileo Project. 1995. Rice University. 16 October 2005 < http://galileo.rice.edu/sci/theories/ptolemaic_system.html>. 2 Lotman, Yuri. The Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic Theory of Culture. Trans. Ann Shukman. (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1990) 192.
138 повести and Povídky malostránské demonstrates, eccentricity does not imply a set paradigm of a city disconnected from its nation. Rather, the origins and space of a city combine with the author’s perspective to define each city’s particular brand of eccentricity. Petersburg disconnects with the Russian nation through its strong association with Western Europe, seen in the French and Italian architecture. Gogol, who wrote primarily for aesthetical purposes, considers the city inferior to Western cities, particularly Rome. He idealizes the space of Rome for its generations of history, its warm weather, and its artwork. Rome is St. Petersburg’s other from Gogol’s perspective and the Russian Window to the West pales in comparison to the Eternal City. Therefore, he writes Petersburg as cruel, inhospitable, and demonic.
The eccentricity of Prague, on the other hand, arises from the city’s distance from the Czech nation and the Habsburg Empire. The Austrian Germans clearly prefer
Vienna, the capital of the Habsburg Empire, over Prague. However, in the nineteenth century, Czechs consider Prague a German city, and identify primarily with the
Bohemian countryside, rather than any urban area. Prague, unfortunately, gets lost in the tension between Czechs and Germans. Neruda, who was involved with revolutionary circles and wrote with a strong political agenda, focuses on Czech culture and brief references to Germans in Povídky malostránské to re-center Prague within Bohemia through his prose. He demonstrates the eccentricity of Prague by emphasizing the tightly- knit community of Malá Strana that welcomes neighbors and distrusts newcomers. His
Parisian essays counter his Prague stories, embodying the possibility of his native town to become a cosmopolitan metropolis that invites anonymity, rather than friendship. Unlike
139 Petersburg and Rome, where Rome represents everything to which Petersburg aspires, but will never attain, the City of Light symbolizes everything Magic Prague lacks, but has the potential to become.
Despite Gogol’s and Neruda’s different agendas and perspectives, their prose bears interesting similarities that speak to a common representation of eccentricity. Both authors rely upon short stories to represent urban life, a sort of precursor to the modernist city novels of James Joyce’s Ulysses, Andrei Bely’s Petersburg and even Franz Kafka’s
The Trial. Gogol’s and Neruda’s decision to use the short story to represent Petersburg and Prague testifies to the popularity of the short story during the nineteenth century.
The use of the short story also relates to particular aspects of contemporary urban culture.
As cities became increasingly diverse and modernized throughout the nineteenth century, life became more fragmented. A collection of short stories, whether posthumously linked together thematically, as in the case of Gogol, or grouped together intentionally as
Neruda did, enabled authors to explore and represent the diversity and fragmentation of their contemporary culture.
In terms of content, Gogol’s and Neruda’s prose focuses on the humor and pathos of a mundane daily existence. The characters of Петербургские повести lead mediocre, uneventful lives like Piskaryov, the poor artist of “Невский Проспект,” (“The
Nevsky Prospect”), Akaky Akakievich, the copy clerk of “Шинель,” (“The Overcoat”), or Aksenty Poprishchin, another clerk in “Записки сумашедшего” (“Notes of a
Madman.”) Mundane events transform their existence: Piskaryov falls in love with a prostitute and takes opium to perpetuate his fantasy until he overdoses; Akaky
140 Akakievich purchases a beautiful new overcoat that he wears proudly until the theft of the coat causes him to fall fatally ill in the cold; Aksenty Poprishchin futilely dreams of advancing to a higher position, and driven insane, believes himself the King of Spain.
These examples, mundane and absurd at the same time, reveal the humor and pathos of daily existence.
Struggles with the habits and rituals of day-to-day life also shape the events surrounding characters in Povídky malostranské. In “Týden v tichém domě” (“A Week in a Quiet House”) the Doctor loves a woman already engaged. His landlady, Mrs.
Lakmus, catches sight of some of his unsent love letters and mistakenly believes he yearns to be with her daughter. Eager for her daughter to marry, the landlady forces a match between the two reluctant parties. Mr. Ryšánek and Mr.Schlegel in “Pan Ryšánek and pan Schlegl” (“Mr. Ryšánek and Mr.Schlegel”) avoid speaking to each other for eleven years, until a serious illness renews their friendship. Krumlovský in “Figurky”
(“Figures”) plans on spending his Spring studying law. However, when he moves to his new apartment, his relationships with neighbors unexpectedly transform his behavior: he accidentally offends a lieutenant, and fights a duel, winning despite his rudimentary knowledge of sword fighting. As with Gogol, Neruda’s tales reveal the comedy and desperation of everyday events.
The common threads of the short story format, as well as humor and pathos of daily life suggest that, at least for these writers, these qualities reveal the eccentricity of
Petersburg and Prague. To return to the image of an observer on Earth tracking a planet across the heavens, the subjective position causes them to see an ellipsis in the planetary
141 orbit. Perhaps because Gogol and Neruda viewed these cities from within their nations, their subjective positions enabled them to view these cities as eccentric. Their more objective, external perspective of Rome and Paris as foreigners perhaps enables them to view these cities a typical and traditional counterparts to St. Petersburg and Prague.
However, for Italian and French writers subjectively located within Rome and Paris, might see these cities, rather than St. Petersburg and Prague, as eccentric.
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147 Vita
Linda Marie Mayhew was born in Red Bank, New Jersey on September 27, 1973 to Joan Elisabeth Shipley and Edward Nicholas Shipley. She has two siblings, Elisabeth
Anne Shipley and Edward Nicholas Shipley, Jr. After graduating from Red Bank
Catholic High School in Red Bank, New Jersey in 1991, she entered Kalamazoo College in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She studied English and Russian, thus beginning a lifelong interest in Eastern European Literature. Two study abroad trips, to Saint Petersburg in
1993 and Novosibirsk in 1995, fueled her interest. She was accepted into Master’s program in Slavic Department of The University of Texas at Austin in Fall 1995. Since then, she has made two more journeys to Russia, in 1997 and 1998, and one trip to
Prague, in 2000. She currently resides in Austin with her husband, Jason, and works as an Academic Advisor in the Department of Asian Studies at The University of Texas at
Austin.
Permanent Address: 1206 Pasadena Drive, Austin, TX, 78757
This dissertation was typed by the author.
148